Blast TO the Past
by SkyPalaceBuilder
Summary: Time has passed - he's married, even has two kids - and Ron had thought he was done with the past. Unfortunately, the past isn't done with him. Suddenly Ron finds himself back in August, 1994...in his 14-year-old body. Even worse, his 14-year-old self is still there, and the two of them - or technically, the four of them - don't always agree on what to do... Rated T, for Language.
1. Chapter 1

**I've actually had this idea for years now, but I've finally decided to give a go at writing it out, properly. Let's see how this goes!**

 **Also, I did consider cutting out the swearing (which would make it K+), but then I realized: Wait, this is Ronald Bilius "Bloody Hell" Weasley. There's no WAY his interior monologue** _ **wouldn't**_ **have swearing. It wouldn't be true to the character. So, I decided to keep it.**

* * *

Lying there, knowing that Death Eaters were attacking after the World Quidditch Cup, and he was just there, flat on the grass, Ron couldn't help thinking the past few days had seemed like something out of a bizarre dream...

 _You think this is crazy for you, I was just minding my own business, and suddenly my body and my life get hijacked by some stranger! You think that's easy-_

 _Oh, come on off it, you know it's not like I wanted this, either- I had a life of my own, too, you know..._ Ron mentally answered his younger self - he had started calling him Younger-Ron, in his own thoughts...

'His own thoughts' - Ron snorted, he didn't even know what those were anymore...

It was hard to tell, since this was all sort of happening in the same shared mind...space? But it seemed as though both he, and Younger-Ron, could think their own, private thoughts, as well as, 'think out' thoughts, so that the other one could hear.

That was how they usually communicated: one of them (usually Younger-Ron) would 'think out' thoughts, and the other would reply back. It was weird, but they both seemed to be getting used to it, now.

Still, it had only been one week. Sometimes he could hear Younger-Ron's 'private thoughts', and vice versa. They weren't truly fully private, yet. That must have been why Younger-Ron could have responded just earlier.

 _I just don't get why any of this happened. Especially to me. You'd think something this crazy would happen to Harry._

Ron sent back, _The longer I live, the more I've seen that weird things happening isn't just reserved for Harry._ Suddenly he remembered how much he missed Harry - _his_ Harry, the adult and his best friend. It really was too bad Harry wasn't with him right now. Then again...maybe it was for the best. He was missing all the people from his old life so much, he didn't want to wish that on Harry, too.

"What happened?" Hermione's voice rang out anxiously. "Ron, where are you? Oh this is stupid — _lumos_!" Ron looked up to see 14-year-old Hermione looking very worried, alongside 14-year-old Harry.

"I'm- fine, Hermione, you don't need to worry...believe me, I've had worse, _much_ worse..." Ron muttered darkly, feeling dazed, but forcing himself to get up. Dimly, he remembered this happening before...only last time...oh no...

Ron whipped around quickly to see Draco Malfoy, standing nearby, just like before...but this time, instead of looking relaxed and smug, he was standing awkwardly, and his face was one of utter shock. In fact, it was an expression he was pretty sure only one person could recognise...

Ron must have done something differently... Because Malfoy hadn't expected this. Malfoy had expected Ron to say something else. Almost like he had _lived this before..._

 _Oh, **shit.**_

* * *

 _ **Well, this is off to a great start!**_

 _ **Hey, I just thought I should let everyone know: I've already written the first four chapters, so the next three chapters will be uploaded quickly...but, after that, it will take longer to update, and may not update regularly. I'm letting everyone know so they don't think I abandoned the fic or get disappointed when it takes longer for Chapter 5 to come out.**_

 _ **Please review if you can, and let me know what you think.**_

 _ **Edit: I added a cover for this fanfiction. The source for the art is a tumblr called rijsamurai (I would post the exact link, but I think this site doesn't let you post links).**_


	2. Chapter 2

Ron felt exhausted. It had been a long day - well, actually a long night, but it was all the same to him - and, even though he knew what was going to happen, it all just felt like too much, too fast, and it was all he could do just to try to keep up.

Malfoy had left shortly after an awkward exchange - looking back, he knew it must have seemed much stranger to poor Harry and Hermione - which Ron knew wouldn't be the end of it, but then -

Well. Then came the whole mess with Winky, and the Dark Mark, and Crouch, and - Ron tried his best, he really did, but between trying to respond to Hermione's burgeoning elf activism, trying to keep Amos Diggory from accusing the three of them (and damn, was it uncomfortable to argue with the man, remembering what had happened to Cedric- what would happen- he made a note to himself to see if he could change that, because he was feeling guilty already), and then trying to get the truth out of what had really happened with the Dark Mark casting - he had tried to bring up Crouch's son, but that had backfired spectacularly... it was just, a mess.

It was so frustrating, he could remember what had happened, but everything was happening so fast, and he didn't know how to explain it, or how to prove it. It was infuriating, thinking of all the deaths Barty Crouch Jr. was going to cause, and what a hypocrite Crouch was - it was all Ron could do to keep from screaming, when Crouch started talking about how he was going to punish Winky, when he knew _full_ well, that it was at least much Crouch's fault, if not more so. No wonder Hermione had founded SPEW, even if it had backfired badly.

Younger-Ron wasn't speaking that much, Ron suspected he was too shocked by the Barty Crouch plot Ron had told him about, but he didn't know. He wanted to give him _some_ privacy. Merlin knows they could both use some.

Because, to top it off, Ron had showed some knowledge when the topic of Death Eaters, and the Dark Mark, and so on came up - _too_ much knowledge. _And_ he had said "Voldemort." Not "You-Know-Who," but Voldemort. He knew he should have let Younger-Ron take over, but he was just tired. Maybe it was thinking about the War and the death toll, but he just couldn't bring himself to care about wasting time pretending not to know things, not now.

Well, he could at least get some sleep now. He could use it, for the next morning, especially considering how late it was already. Ron turned over, and...

Charlie was snoring. Of course. Perfect. Ron groaned, and shoved his pillow over his head. It was already early morning, but it was going to be a long night.

* * *

 ** _Chapter 2 Now!_**

 _ **Like I said: I've already written the first four chapters, so the next two chapters will also be uploaded quickly, but, after that, it will take longer to update, and may not update regularly.**_

 _ **Please review if you can, and let me know what you think.**_


	3. Chapter 3

Getting back...home, had been, well, it had been something. For one thing, they woke up after only a few hours of sleep - or it _would_ have been a few hours of sleep, if he had actually been able to fall asleep, he thought annoyedly. He didn't understand it; he had distinctly remembered having decent sleep the night after the World Quidditch Cup... maybe it was his 'future' knowledge that had kept him up, then. But then, he and Younger-Ron had tried switching back-and-forth, and it hadn't helped a bit in sleeping.

Or maybe it was just always more challenging to fall asleep when there were two minds in one body. Who knows. Ron couldn't bring himself to care.

He had offered his younger self control for when they would see Mum again, but Younger-Ron turned him down. And so, Ron had to hide a wince when their Mum hugged Fred and George, and started talking about how afraid she had been that Voldemort - sorry, _"_ _You-Know-Who"_ _,_ had... "gotten them"...

He would have thought that it would be hard to see Fred again, but it turned out to be the opposite: Fred just fit so naturally in his surroundings, it was like Ron could forget he had ever been gone in the first place...until anyone brought up anything close to that topic. Then it all came back.

He tried to focus on what was happening, like the newspaper article, and Harry's news about the scar... but he found himself slipping. He decided to ask Younger-Ron if he wanted to take the reins, and he said yes. Vaguely, Ron remembered that he should tell Harry at least some hints about the scar dreams... another time, perhaps. They _had_ time, right now, and anyways Ron needed to figure out how to tell him without sounding like Trelawney - Harry might still listen, but Hermione wouldn't, and based on what he remembered with the _many_ fights in fourth year, the last thing they needed was another thing to disagree on.

Being in the mental backseat while Younger-Ron was playing Quidditch was, interesting, at least. It was more like floating in the clouds in a dream, or something. It was hard to describe. Pleasant enough, but he decided that he preferred actually playing Quidditch.

It was when they finished their game, that things, again, started to... _change_. Specifically, he caught sight of a letter. A letter addressed to him: "R. Weasley." It was by...Malfoy. An eagle owl was waiting, almost impatiently.

 _Weasley ⸺_

 _I won't waste any time. The night after the Quidditch Cup — we both know, we've traveled into the past, I don't know how, trapped in our younger bodies. My younger self is rattling inside my head, too. We need to talk, urgently. Reply_ _immediately_ _._

 _D.L. Malfoy_

He couldn't say he was surprised, honestly. He had known Malfoy would try to do something, upon realizing that _another_ person was sent back in time. He was just glad that he was lucky enough that no one else had read the letter yet, or was there to see Ron getting it, either.

Quickly, he scrawled out:

 _Malfoy -_

 _First: next time, send me a warning. I got lucky this time, but I don't want to have to explain to my family, or Harry or Hermione, why I'm getting mail from Malfoy. I think neither of us want that._

 _Second: I don't know how this happened either. My younger self and I take turns. Finally: It's actually R.B. Weasley._

 _Ron_

He quickly attached it to the owl, who seemed pleased to finally take off.

 _WHY are you sending a letter to Malfoy?!_ Well. Ron had been wondering why his younger self didn't say something about any of this.

Ron sent, _Can't we talk about this tomorrow morning?_ It was a dim hope, but still...

 _NO! I mean - it's_ Malfoy! _How can you just- I demand an explanation!_

 _Fine. Short answer: he's the only other person who is in the same situation as us. And I'm sure he wants to get back, too. It'll probably be easier for all of us if we just work together, and we can all leave faster._

 _I still don't think we should trust him._

Ron did not know how to answer this, not without bringing up more questions, so he just sent, _Do you have any other people you know who time-traveled back into their younger body and have to share it with their younger self? You don't have to like it, but we don't have many options._

Silence. Then, what felt like a grudging mental sigh. _FINE._ _But don't blame ME when it all goes into a bloody nightmare, and Malfoy finds a way to use this to ruin our lives._

It was probably as good as he was going to get.

* * *

 ** _And the plot thickens..._**

 ** _Again: Chapter 4 will be coming soon, but, after that, it will take longer to update, and may not update regularly. I am working on Chapter 5 currently, but I can't say when it will come out for certain._**

 ** _Please review if you can, and let me know what you think._**


	4. Chapter 4

The following week, everyone else was so busy - especially their Dad and Percy, with the Ministry and the destruction at the Quidditch Cup - that no one seemed to particularly notice that Ron was getting and sending regular mail.

Malfoy was using an alias, Ron was using one as well, and they'd tried out putting dates in their letters. So far, they had found out:

the last time they were in their present, it was the same day for both of them,

they had gone to bed like normal and woken up to find themselves in August 1994, in their younger bodies, stuck with their younger selves,

while Ron switched back-and-forth with his younger self, Malfoy had taken majority-control, and Ron honestly couldn't say he felt too sympathetic,

neither of them had told anybody else, but Malfoy admitted his mother had figured it out right away (about just Malfoy, obviously), but had agreed to help him,

and, most importantly, they needed to figure out how to get back to their own time.

Malfoy also argued that this must be a Parallel Universe - a world exactly like their own, but in another universe - and Ron accepted it, mainly because it meant he could change things for the better, without worrying about paradoxes or accidentally erasing himself, or something. (He hadn't mentioned this to Malfoy, though. Surely they could keep some things to themselves?)

As it was, Ron was wondering if he should just say, "Fuck it" and start destroying horcruxes already. As soon as he got to Hogwarts, he could get Basilisk fangs - he was fairly sure he could figure out the password for the Chamber of Secrets - and he knew what all of the horcruxes were...

...Then he thought of the locket, and how that had gone, and thought better of it. Maybe he should take advantage of this chance to get a head start on the horcrux hunt, but he knew he couldn't trust himself to do it alone.

 _What's a horcrux?_ Younger-Ron sent out, curiously.

Damn it all. Fucking hell. He thought he had been getting better at the 'private thoughts' thing... Fuck, he must have slipped up, somehow. Oh well, Younger-Ron had already started to overhear... _Umm...it's, something created through Powerful, Dark Magic - and destroying them is the key to destroying Voldemort._ That should be a good enough explanation.

 _Oh, ok. So you're going to destroy them, then?_

 _Umm...it's more complicated than that..._ Fuck, how was Ron supposed to explain this? _Horcruxes...sort of... have safeguards, to prevent people from destroying them... some of them even mess with your mind... they're dangerous things... hopefully I'll be able to tackle them, but I'd need to be careful, and have help... yeah, they're very dangerous._

Younger-Ron seemed to accept this, because he switched to asking if Ron could do his homework when they started term...

There was one thing Ron was certain of, though. As soon as he saw what were supposed to be... his... dress robes, he stopped, and just point-blank said, "Harry, these are awful. Can you please buy me a better set than this?"

Harry looked delighted, like he'd thought Ron would never ask but had hoped he would anyways. Unfortunately, Younger-Ron was not so pleased. Even more unfortunately, their Mum was in the room when he said this.

"Ron! That is no way to treat your friend and our guest-"

"It's fine, Mrs. Weasley, really," Harry said, hurriedly, "I'd be happy to-"

"Nonsense!" Mum took those...horrible...dress robes, and gave them to Ron again. "These are perfectly functional-"

Forcing Younger-Ron down, and ignoring Younger-Ron in his head complaining, about the idea of Harry buying him robes, "No, they're not. They're outdated. And objectively terrible. And Harry just said he's _happy_ to get a set for me. Why can't you just let him? As our guest, shouldn't he be able to do what he wants? And, as my friend: is Harry not allowed to get a gift for his friend?"

"Really, Mrs. Weasley," Harry cut in, "you've all done so much for me, I'd _like_ to give something in return, honest- and Ron's my friend, I want to help him out-"

 _TRUST me_ _,_ he sent, to Younger-Ron. _You_ _will __have to use dress robes, and do you really want to use the ones Mum got? In front of everyone? And like I said, Harry's your friend, just let him do something for you, there's nothing embarrassing about that. What_ _would __be embarrassing, though, is showing up in...those..._ Ron cast a glance at the awful, offending, secondhand robes.

...Younger-Ron admitted he would rather "go starkers" than show up in those.

In the end - especially when Ron pointed out that it was rude to refuse Harry's generosity - Mum gave up, but it was clear she was not happy about it.

Ron, however, could not bring himself to care, when, soon after, he found himself with a nice set of ink-blue robes. He could tell Younger-Ron didn't, either (especially since Younger-Ron was the one picking them out). Also, it was nice to see how happy it made Harry to help his best friend out.

 _I told you you wouldn't regret it_ _,_ he sent.

 _...You win this time_ _,_ came back. Ron had to force himself not to laugh.

* * *

 _ **Chapter 4...Some new events...**_

 _ **I am working on Chapter 5 currently, but I can't say when it will come out for certain. Again, from now on, it will take longer to update, and may not update regularly.**_

 _ **(In case anyone is wondering why Narcissa is able to have "figured it out right away," the reason is: in canon, she was able to lie to Voldemort without raising even his suspicion, when Voldemort is supposed to be very good at Occlumency/Legilimency.**_

 _ **So, I think that suggests that Narcissa herself is very powerful in Occlumency/Legilimency. Thus, naturally, it would make sense that someone skilled in such mental arts would be able to quickly recognize another mind/soul in her son.)**_

 _ **If you have any other questions, let me know, and I'll do my best to answer them back.**_

 _ **Please review if you can, and let me know what you think.**_


	5. Chapter 5

When Ron heard their Dad start talking about Mad-Eye Moody, it was very hard not to react. Thinking of all that Moody went through - not even how he went out, but just what had happened to him over fourth year - Ron found his mind going into overdrive, thinking and plotting about ways he could stop it from happening: expose Barty Crouch Jr. (maybe publicly so Fudge couldn't deny it?), or tell Dumbledore about Crouch, or even help the real Moody escape...

When Charlie and Bill started hinting about the Tournament (but refusing to explain), he knew it was stupid, but Ron found himself so irritated, he couldn't stop himself.

"You're talking about the Triwizard Tournament, aren't you? It's going to be hosted at Hogwarts, because it's being started up again," _for no good reason,_ he couldn't help sending to Younger-Ron, bitterly, "but this time with new safety restrictions?" he said, bluntly. _Safety measures that don't work..and, really, I should be calling it the...Quadwizard Tournament, shouldn't I?_ He sent those thoughts to Younger-Ron as well.

 _Q-Quadwizard Tournament? Wait, why?_ Younger-Ron sounded confused, which confused Ron, because he thought he had already explained this.

 _Remember? I thought I already told you, Crouch Jr. tampered with the Goblet of Fire - or maybe will tamper with, I don't know when he did it, except obviously it was before the judging - so that it would pick Harry no matter what, for the plan of resurrecting Voldemort?_

 _Stop - saying - his name!_

Ron mentally sighed. _It's not even his actual name..._ Still, his younger self seemed upset, so he let it go. _The point is... a lot of people think Harry tried to enter himself- which made the other schools mad, that Hogwarts was getting two champions, especially one who was underage, and-_

"Ron? Are you listening?" Bill said, sounding...odd. "I was just asking, how did you know about...all of that?"

Fuck. Bloody. Fucking. Hell. He'd really damn well screwed it up this time. Everyone was staring at him, and that was starting to freak him out. Merlin, he really needed a way to fix this, fast... Younger-Ron wasn't going to like it, but...

To his younger self, he sent, _Hey, can you answer this one?_

 _No WAY! Why should I have to answer for the mess YOU made?!_ You _take it-_

 _Look, you'll just - make it less suspicious? I'll owe you a favor, just_ hurry-

 _FINE._ "Um - err - I..." Younger-Ron seemed lost for words, and Ron was just beginning to wonder if he had made a mistake, when Younger-Ron managed out, "I...guess maybe I heard it from some gossipy Ministry workers at the Cup?"

Ron and Younger-Ron glanced at the others' faces, and, fortunately, they seemed to buy it. Both Rons relaxed.

 _You'd better do my homework now,_ Younger-Ron sent.

 _I'll do at least part of it,_ Ron sent back. He did owe the kid a favor, after all.

As they boarded the Hogwarts Express, his younger self stayed in control while Ron sat in the mental backseat. This time, the train ride turned out to be a peaceful one. Other kids, like Seamus, Dean, and Neville, came by and joined in chatting later.

It was so peaceful, in fact, that Ron's good mood continued even through them trudging out in the rain, or getting soaked by Peeves (though younger-Ron felt differently)...

Then Hermione, looking at the staff table, with its empty seats, asked, "Where's the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?"

And suddenly Ron was immensely grateful that younger-Ron was still in control, because Ron didn't know what he would done in reaction.

Damn, Crouch hadn't even entered yet, but Ron still couldn't stop his mind from reeling, couldn't stop thinking about him impersonating Moody, and all the destruction that Crouch was going to - all that Crouch had _already_ caused... Crouch, with his damn lesson with the _fucking_ Unforgivable Curses... Crouch, doing everything to get Harry to win... Crouch succeeding in his plans in _bloody bringing back Voldemort_ , then, according to Harry, telling _everything_ \- but then bloody _useless_ cowardly Fudge had Crouch Kissed when they could have stopped this all at the DAMN START-

 _Um- Older-Me? Are - are you okay?_ It was thoughts being sent, not actual words out loud, so he couldn't be sure, but his younger self sounded...worried.

Ron started taking deep breaths... then realised that wouldn't work because he was just there mentally and not in charge of the body... oh Merlin, he was panicking now... no, waiting, breathing exercises, what was that one they told him about?... _Inhale four, hold seven, exhale eight..._ Ron repeated this a few times, and slowly started to feel himself calm down...

 _I'm...I'm fine now,_ he sent, trying to send feelings of calm and reassurance as well.

 _Are you sure? Because you seemed...pretty worked up..._

Ron tried to explain better: _I'm fine now, it's just that, Crouch was - is - awful, and everything that he did, it just...all came back to me, and I just - I was just, taken by surprise, but I'm okay now. Don't worry about it._

 _Okay..._ Younger-Ron sounded reluctant, but, oh well. The Sorting would start soon, that should take his mind - take both their minds - off the topic.

And sure enough, the Sorting did take his mind off the topic, but not in the way he expected. When the hat sorted a "Baddock, Malcolm!" into "SLYTHERIN!" Ron was startled to see Fred and George hissing at Malcolm as he sat down. For Merlin's sake, the kid had only just joined - and was only 11, anyways! Ron almost wanted to go and say something, but, god, what?

For better or for worse, though, with Younger-Ron still in control, nothing happened, and no one except the two of them knew how Ron had just reacted. Ron tried to shake off the nagging feeling that he was being a coward, and just mentally focus on the rest of the sorting, but, by the time "Whitby, Kevin!" became a Hufflepuff, and the Sorting finally ended, he had to admit he hadn't quite managed it.

 _Clang._

Hermione had knocked over her goblet. Pumpkin juice spread steadily over the tablecloth, staining several feet of it orange, but Hermione paid no attention.

"There are house-elves _here_?" she said, staring, horror-struck, at Nearly Headless Nick. "Here at _Hogwarts_?"

Oh, Merlin, it was starting already. Ron, only vaguely aware of Nick replying obliviously - and, oh great, now Hermione was getting more outraged - internally groaned, remembering what had happened _last_ time around... Fuck it, he couldn't just watch this unfold the exact same way all over again...not if he had something to say about it.

Internally cringing at the sight of Hermione pushing away her plate, Ron couldn't take it anymore.

He seized control to speak up, and -wait, he should probably approach this more...delicately? Than he had last time? Hm...

So he swallowed the food Younger-Ron had been chewing, and then said, "Hermione, you have a point-" everyone, especially Hermione, liked to be told they were right- "and those are problems, problems that we...should be concerned about, but - not eating isn't going to help them?"

"Slave labor," said Hermione, breathing hard through her nose. "That's what made this dinner. _Slave labor."_

Ignoring younger-Ron's yelling in the back of his head, Ron tried again: "Yes, and I get it Hermione, it's awful, but... look, we can maybe talk more about this later, but not eating is - it's just going to harm you?" Thinking hard, he added, "In fact, it might even...offend the house elves? Because...they'd just think you're rejecting their...work?" And now Younger-Ron had switched to giving him the silent treatment, but, one problem at a time... _Please let this be what gets her to listen,_ he prayed internally.

Unfortunately, Hermione was never one to give up so easily. "Oh, right. Because you actually care, Ron," Hermione snapped, scowling, and now with her arms crossed. "We both know otherwise. You just want me to be silent and _complacent."_ She emphasized the last word, dragging it out.

"No- that's not it at all-" he found himself saying desperately- "in fact, I want to have a long chat with you about this later!" Bollocks, what was he saying?!

Hermione stared at him with suspicion. "You're sure? Because I'll hold you to this, Ron, you'd better not try to get out of this or say stupid excuses."

"I'm sure," Ron said, quickly.

Hermione glared at him, and then, picking up her fork, said, "Fine. Right after dinner, in the Library, tomorrow. Don't be late."

Meeting Hermione in the library...agreeing to have a nice, long discussion on house elf rights with an angry 14-year-old Hermione... probably needing to study for this, too... _What_ had he just got himself into? Ron swore he heard his younger-self laughing in his head.

 _Oh, sod off, you._ All that came back was an obnoxious, _How can I, we're in the same head!_ Then Ron had to scream. Well, scream internally, but still.

At least Hermione had started eating again, that was a win, right? Bloody hell, why did Harry's talent for getting into messes have to rub off on him as well... He tried to distract himself by digging into the feast, but it only helped so much.

When the puddings were gone, and Dumbledore began his speech, Ron immediately asked younger-Ron to take control.

The response shot back was, _Oh, now you want me in control? That's funny, I don't remember that being the case just a few moments ago!_

Oh, god, he really should have seen this coming. _Look, he's going to start talking about the Triwizard Tournament...and then Crouch Jr.-disguised-as-Moody is going to come in... You saw how I reacted just to his empty seat - AND when I messed up and blurted things about the Tournament that I wasn't supposed to know... We can't risk it. I am asking you, for both our sakes, can you please take over?_

 _FINE! But you'd better be the one studying for that library meeting, and not me. I'm not the one who agreed to it... and don't forget, you promised to do some of my homework._

Ron sighed internally. _Remember, one problem at a time,_ he thought to himself privately. To his younger self, he sent out, _Thank you. Now let's switch._

Ron sat in the backseat and tried to doze off, just knowing that it wouldn't do them any good if he was there to suffer listening and watching to what came next. He ended up in daydream mode, which was...rather interesting, when you were basically...just a soul, and mind, floating around in the mindscape? Ron wasn't sure how to describe it. It was possible, he suddenly realised, that no one had ever experienced this before. _Too bad Hermione's not here,_ the thought popped up, _she'd be fascinated, probably insist on documenting everything._ God, he missed her... a sharp ache grew.

 _Focus,_ he scolded himself, _moping around isn't going to do anything. Why not use this time to... work on strategies?_

...What felt like an eternity later, and over a dozen possible strategies agonized over, Ron found that he was nowhere closer to a solid, thorough plan, or even a plan that was actually _viable_. Ron was so frustrated, that he couldn't help but think, privately, that it really was a good thing that he'd convinced his younger self to take over, or else the Great Hall might not have been looking so 'great' anymore...since he had now been driven to imagining just casting an Incendio onto fake-Moody (sitting right over there), and making a run for it.

 _I mean, it's as good as any other plan I could think up...which means, it's completely terrible..._ Yes, Ron was feeling grumpy and unpleasant now. If he couldn't sulk in the imagined space of his mind, then where could he?

Merlin, he hoped that this would be over soon, and Dumbledore would just send them off to their dorms already, because he didn't think he could take much more of these teenagers stupidly gossiping about how they planned on sneaking past the line and putting their names into the Cup or how they were going to win those piles of gold or whatever... Didn't they even hear about the mounting death tolls? About why the Tournament was cancelled in the first place?

 _Honestly, sometimes it really was true that Hermione was the only one of us with any sense... Harry and I probably wouldn't have even survived without her there,_ he privately thought, almost laughing at the terrible black humor.

Oh thank fuck, finally Dumbledore was telling them to go off to bed... Ron couldn't fucking wait to fall into bed and not think at ALL for the next, oh, eight, no, eleven hours - oh, and Fred and George were coming with them and continuing to talk about entering the Tournament underage, bloody hell - _great, I really needed that, that is exactly what I needed..._

Once again, Ron reminded himself to be grateful that younger-Ron was in charge at the time, or else there might have been property damage committed right then. And that would definitely make it harder to, say, stop a war before it starts... So, Ron distracted himself by imagining various vaguely insulting things to write in his next letter to Malfoy - in other words, a relaxing activity.

Finally, after Neville fell in a step, George announced the password, and then Hermione said good-bye, they had reached their dorms. Ron didn't even bother changing into pajamas, he was so eager to get into bed, and then - he felt his younger self mentally reaching out.

Oh, great. Well, best get this over with. Sighing, Ron sent out, _What is it?_

 _Okay, well..._ \- was it just his imagination, or did younger-Ron seem strangely hesitant? _\- you know how you told me about what happens with the Tournament, and how Harry gets picked because Crouch messed with the Cup, and... all that happens after?_

 _Yes..._ deciding to be careful, Ron sent out a, _Is there... something you want to ask me about?_

 _Well...it's just that...since I already knew about Moody - or, Crouch, really - and all that stuff Dumbledore was saying about the Tournament... I sort of... listened to some of what you were making plans about... and, well..._ the message seemed to end here.

Ron felt surprised, but only for a moment. His younger self was right, he had already told younger-Ron more than anything Dumbledore was saying right then. And Ron hadn't been making certain to think the plans privately, so it was possible that younger-Ron could eavesdrop. He sent, again, _And so what you wanted to ask me now was...?_

A few moments later, nervously came back, _If Harry's in so much danger, then...why aren't we doing anything to stop the Goblet from selecting him in the first place?_

 _I thought of that,_ Ron sent back. This next part was hard to say, but... _But then I realised that I never actually learnt exactly how Crouch Jr. tampered with the Goblet in the first place. So, if I tried to mess with it as well, that might only make it worse. Then I definitely wouldn't know how to fix it, or even know what to warn Harry about. Besides, even if I could stop the Goblet from picking Harry, as long as Crouch is a free man, Harry's still in danger, and Vol- You-Know-Who could still be brought back. Also, Cedric - and possibly also Fleur and Viktor - are still in danger from the foul play of this tournament, as well._

 _That...makes sense, I guess... Sounds like...you really thought about this a lot._

 _Yeah, I did. This was... is, a really important year. For Harry, for Cedric... for all of us, really._

Silence. Then came back, _...Yeah._

 _So, can we go to bed now? You may have noticed, but I'm really looking forward to just being knocked out for the next several hours. Unless you have any other questions-_

Quickly, came, _No, I'm fine. You're right, let's go to bed._

And, at last, luck seemed to be on his side, because they soon fell into a deep, uninterrupted sleep.

* * *

 _ **Yup, that's Chapter 5! I honestly didn't realize it would get this big, but, the muse gets ideas of its own I guess!**_

 _ **Again: It may take some time for Chapter 6 to come up - especially since final exams are coming up. Just a reminder.**_

 _ **As always: Please review if you can, and let me know what you think.**_


	6. Chapter 6

_**Just a beginning note: I am not going to be writing out accents.**_

The next day younger-Ron took over for the majority, being the first day of classes and all.

That didn't mean things happened the same as Ron's memories, though. First, Ron had underestimated how much the knowledge of Crouch's plot would affect younger-Ron. Honestly, he seemed a bit on edge. He was making a valiant effort to focus on his conversation with Harry, though, which Ron had to give him credit for; Harry going over their schedules with younger-Ron was... not exactly the most engaging issue to talk about right now.

"We've got Herbology first," Younger-Ron said, barely looking at the schedule (and really thinking _thank Merlin we at least don't have fake-Moody-really-Crouch-Jr until Thursday_ ), "Herbology with the Hufflepuffs... then..."

"Care of Magical Creatures," Harry burst out, "and damn, we're still stuck with the Slytherins... and then Double Divination in the afternoon." Harry groaned.

Ron could only think of two things: Care of Magical Creatures with the Slytherins meant Malfoy would be there ( _Oh, great, how could we be so lucky,_ younger-Ron sent, a message dripping with sarcasm), and as for Double Divination...

Ron had once thought that Trelawney was a fraud. But Harry had told him about how she'd made a real prophecy, the Prophecy, in fact...

 _I'm not really looking forward to what Trelawney has to say when she sees a student with_ two _minds in one body,_ Ron sent.

 _Right, and the fact that you're from the future... that can't be good._

 _Exactly,_ Ron sent back. Honestly, he was a little impressed that younger-Ron was taking this so seriously. But then, he supposed, when you knew for a fact exactly what dark plots were going on, you had to pay attention.

Herbology turned out to be oddly relaxing. Bubotubers may have looked revolting, but there was something about squeezing them and collecting the pus that, while disgusting, was... stress-relieving. It was busy work, good for the hands, and good for shaking out all that pent-up nervousness. Younger-Ron seemed to feel the same way.

Eventually, though, Herbology would end, and up next was... Care of Magical Creatures. Ron shuddered. Wasn't this the year of those horrible Blast-Ended Skrewts?

 _Wait, WHAT-_

Just in time, the bell boomed, and it was off to Hagrid's cabin.

When they arrived, younger-Ron's panicking only got worse when they spotted the several mysterious wooden crates on the ground next to Hagrid and Fang. _What the bloody hell are_ in _those things-_

"Morning!" Hagrid said, grinning at the three (or, really, four?) of them. "Better wait for the Slytherins, they won't want to miss this - Blast-Ended Skrewts!"

Younger-Ron burst out, terrified, "Blast-Ended WHAT?!"

Hagrid, instead of answering, simply pointed down into the crates.

"Eurgh!" Lavender squealed, jumping backward. Ron couldn't blame her, really. Younger-Ron, after finally cautiously going over to the crates and peeking in, felt the same way as Lavender, only worse.

 _They look like deformed, shell-less lobsters! They don't even have heads, and... oh, Merlin, what is that smell, it's like rotting fish... and does Hagrid have hundreds of these beasts?_

"Only just hatched," said Hagrid proudly, apparently not noticing everyone's reactions, "so you'll be able to raise 'em yourselves! Thought we'd make a bit a of a project of it!"

"And _why_ are we raising them?" said a cold voice. It was Malfoy. _Oh, Merlin._

Poor Hagrid just looked stumped at the question.

"What do they even do?" Malfoy asked. "Because if they don't have any point, then _I_ don't see the point in wasting our time endangering ourselves trying to raise them."

Both Rons stared at him in disbelief. Ron just couldn't help thinking, _Seriously? Sure, the Skrewts are obnoxious, but really? THIS is the hill you want to die on?_

Malfoy, who had clearly noticed their reaction and was now ignoring them, the _bastard_ , continued, "They don't seem very safe. Are they safe?" He paused. "Are they even _legal?_ "

 _Oh, fuck, what is he going to say NOW,_ younger-Ron sent in dismay, and Ron couldn't help but agree. Harry and Hermione already looked furious, and it was only going to get worse, he was sure of it.

"I mean, I don't know about you," Malfoy said, leaning over one of the crates, "but these look like violations of the Ban on Experimental Breeding to me. That law exists to regulate _dangerous_ magical creatures. I can't believe you're breaking it and putting us all in danger just to-"

"Oh, shut up Malfoy, what proof do you even have?! You're just trying to get Hagrid sacked again!" It was Harry, who looked like he was just a few seconds away from a wand fight.

Malfoy glanced over, and then shrugged wordlessly, looking bored. Awkward silence followed. Then Hagrid coughed loudly, and then said, "Well, this lesson you're just feeding them. Now, you'll want to try 'em on a few different things - I've never had 'em before, not sure what they'll go for - I got ant eggs and frog livers and a bit of grass snake - just try them out with a bit of each."

"First pus and now this," muttered Seamus. Both Rons agreed. Younger-Ron actually begged to switch, and Ron miserably agreed. _This is going to be terrible, but fine, I'll do it,_ he sent. He could sense great relief coming from his younger self.

Reminding himself over and over again about how Hagrid was his friend and how he needed to get through this for both Hagrid and younger-Ron, Ron, wincing, forced himself to pick up disgusting, squelchy handfuls of frog liver and lower those handfuls into the crates. He didn't need to look up to see that Harry and Hermione were enjoying this as much as he was.

Poor Dean Thomas got burned by one after ten minutes. And then Lavender noticed the stings. And then Hagrid mentioned the females might be blood-suckers.

"Like I said," Malfoy muttered, "dangerous."

"Oh, shut it, Malfoy," Ron snapped back. He definitely didn't have the energy to put up with this right now. Why did he have to cause such a scene earlier? Oh, right, because he's Malfoy. Honestly, Ron should have seen this coming.

 _Wow, this new "partnership" is working out great, I can't wait for our next meeting, I wonder what amazingly helpful things Malfoy will have to say then,_ his younger self sent, and Ron thought he could actually feel the sarcasm now.

Angrily, Ron sent back, _Shove off, I don't need this from you too. Remember, I'm doing the handling of the skrewts that you're actually supposed to be doing?_ Nothing was sent back, not in words, but Ron could swear he could feel his younger self's mockery singing back. And if he remembered correctly, this delightful feeding of the skrewts was going to go on for at least an hour longer. Bloody. Fucking. Hell.

Sure enough, it was an hour later that they were able to make their way back to the castle for lunch. While they were walking in, Harry said, "Well, at least the skrewts are small."

"They are now," said Hermione, sounding exasperated, "but once Hagrid's found out what they eat, they'll probably be six feet long."

"Say, wasn't it odd how Malfoy just shut up like that?" Harry, looking thoughtful, said, "I wonder if he's up to something..."

Oh, great, this was sixth year, but two years early. Yes, Malfoy actually was up to something, but Ron wasn't ready to tell 14-year-old Harry everything yet. But he also didn't want to lie to Harry...

Fortunately Ron was saved from having to make a decision, when they sat down at the Gryffindor table, and Hermione began to eat so fast that Harry started to stare...and so was younger-Ron.

"Er- Hermione, are you sure you want to eat that quickly? You might choke," Harry said, awkwardly.

"No," said Hermione, sounding surprisingly dignified for someone talking with their mouth bulging full of sprouts. "I just want to get to the library - soon."

 _Oh, right...Hermione wants to study in the library for anything on elf rights,_ Ron sent.

 _Oh, it's your turn now, I'm not taking this - remember, I told you it's your job to handle her obsession with elves?_ Ron sighed, but his younger-self was right. He had been the one to promise Hermione to talk to her about the topic after dinner, today. He did need to handle this. It was time to switch.

"Hermione," Ron said, "can I join you in the library?"

Hermione looked at him in surprise. "You actually want to come?"

Well, Ron thought, he was going to go there after dinner anyways for their meeting... he could use the time now to start preparing his statement for that meeting, this needed strategy and planning... What Ron said out loud was, "Sure, why not?"

That was how they ended up both shoveling food down to get to the library as possible. At the library, while Hermione read relentlessly from a pile of books and occasionally scribbled down things, Ron was trying to strategise and write down good points for what to say for the after-dinner meeting, to get Hermione to do this in a way that didn't lead to disaster.

So far, he had, on a piece of parchment:

 _1\. Maybe they do accept their situation because they're uneducated and brainwashed, but if you ignore what they say because of that, it's still insulting, right?  
_

 _2\. If you want to help house elves, then shouldn't you ask house elves what they want?  
_

 _3\. Wouldn't it be better to focus on the house elves that want to be free, like Dobby, first?_

There were other statements he knew he needed to write down as well, but they were stuck on the tip of his tongue. He slammed his quill down in frustration. He knew how important this was, why he needed to get it right... so why was he drawing a blank? _Think,_ he told himself, _what set Hermione off on this originally? That's important, I need to remember that... but it's been years since that all happened, I can't remember the exact events..._

With hesitation, came, _I remember what happened._

 _What?_ Ron was surprised. _I thought you said you wanted me to handle all of this._

 _Yeah... just... I guess you weren't paying attention, since for you, it already happened, but... I was there. Maybe I could just help by telling you what I remember happening._

 _Oh... thanks._

And tell what he remembered happening, younger-Ron did indeed. Younger-Ron spoke on how Hermione was horrified by how unkindly Crouch Sr. treated Winky, on her anger with Percy for supporting Crouch Sr., then anger that Winky was his slave (and Crouch Sr. could do whatever he wanted to her)... and then of course Hermione's reaction when Nearly-Headless Nick told her about the Hogwarts elves...

By the end Ron was actually impressed by how well younger-Ron was able to recollect those events. Ron ended up getting much more written down after that. Time flew by so fast that he was surprised when the bell rang for afternoon classes. _Great, double Divination here we come._

While walking up the spiraling staircase in the North Tower, Ron convinced younger-Ron to take over, and then they discussed how to act natural, and what he might say if Trelawney said something strangely correct.

Ron was prepared when Trelawney startled Harry. She started talking to Harry with a tragic expression, saying something Ron assumed they hadn't paid attention to back then.

 _Do you think she's right? I mean, she's talking about difficult times ahead of Harry... and, based on what you said about the future, it... sounds like that's what's going to happen?_

 _The thing about Trelawney... somehow she's both a fraud and the real deal... look, just try to not react if she says anything to you, okay? We can talk later,_ Ron sent back, hoping that would be enough.

"And you, my dear," Trelawney said, mournfully, facing them now, "My inner eye sees the troubled soul energies within... you, and your future are clouded, undecided... many different paths... most of them with tragic losses and dreaded deeds... there is something strange, hidden, about your spirit? Oh, I don't think I've seen this before... troubling, most troubling..." She gave younger-Ron - or maybe both of them - a look of tragic pity.

Ron had expected something like this, but... "many different paths... most of them with tragic losses and dreaded deeds", wasn't that horribly ominous? He could try to reassure himself that she made tragic predictions to many people... but "there is something strange, hidden, about your spirit?" And recognizing multiple futures? That was chillingly accurate...

Fortunately, younger-Ron, sticking to the plan, didn't say anything back, and Trelawney switched back to talking to Harry about Harry's tragic circumstances.

"...You were clearly born under the baleful influence of Saturn, my dear," Trelawney was saying, with an air of great importance and mystery. "Saturn was surely in a position of power in the heavens at the moment of your birth... Your dark hair... your mean stature... tragic losses so young in life... I think I am right in saying, my dear, that you were born in midwinter?"

"No, I was born in July," Harry said.

Ron heard someone laugh, but he couldn't find it funny, not like he had before. Hadn't Voldemort been born in December? (Midwinter, indeed.) Was Trelawney accidentally seeing Harry's condition as a horcrux without knowing what it meant? Suddenly Ron felt deeply disturbed.

Not long after that, they were given circular charts where they each were supposed to fill in the planets' positions at the time of their birth. Ron had offered to work on the chart for younger-Ron, and so they'd switched. It wasn't like he loved reading timetables and calculating angles either, but he needed to work on something, anything, to take his mind off the unsettling thoughts stirred up by Trelawney's statements to him and Harry. So far, it seemed to be doing the trick.

"I've got two Neptunes here," said Harry, frowning at his piece of parchment, "that can't be right, can it?"

"No, it's not." Ron, looking over at Harry's chart, frowned, and said, "Here - I think you made a mistake there." He pointed to some scratchings of arithmetic Harry had done on the corners.

"Oh. Thanks." Harry looked surprised, but Ron really couldn't remember what had happened originally, and anyways there wasn't any harm in helping Harry with his chart, was there?

Then Lavender excitedly said, "Oh Professor, look! I think I've got an unaspected planet! Oooh, which one's that, Professor?"

"It is Uranus, my dear," said Trelawney, looking down at her chart.

 _Oh._ Ron remembered what had happened next. He felt his face go hot. Well, he definitely wasn't repeating that part. For...plenty of reasons.

Unsurprisingly, at the end of the class, Trelawney was far pleasanter than last time. She didn't assign any extra homework at all, but just said that everyone who had finished their charts should hand it in, and that anyone who didn't finish their charts given to them should turn them in next Monday, then. Ron had managed to help Harry finish his chart, and was nearly done with younger-Ron's chart.

Which was a very good thing, because when Hermione caught up with them, that reminded Ron that he would be busy for at least all of after dinner today, in the library. Oh, joy.

They joined the end of the line in the entrance hall to get dinner. Ron had just started arguing with younger-Ron about who should get to eat, when an annoying voice rang out behind them.

"Weasley! Hey, Weasley!"

All three of them turned. Malfoy was standing here, with a smug look Ron wanted to smack right off his face.

Grinding his teeth, Ron said, "What." _This had better be good._

 _Are you kidding? When is anything Malfoy has to say good?_

In spite of himself, Ron had to choke down a laugh.

"Look at this article," Malfoy quietly said, smirking and showing off a copy of the Daily Prophet, "they couldn't even get your dad's name right, check the second page yourself." Then he walked away, but not before tossing the paper at Ron. Ron, out of sheer reflex, caught it.

Disgustedly, he shook the paper out, while Harry and Hermione peered over. _What is wrong with him? We're literally stuck in an alternate universe, in our younger counterparts' bodies, with no idea of how to get back home yet, and this is what he's wasting time on - whining about Skrewts and looking for spelling mistakes in the newspaper?!_

"This article is rubbish," Hermione said, "It's saying that your dad embarrassed the Ministry, but based on what I'm reading, the only people creating an embarrassment are Mr. Moody, Rita Skeeter, and the editor of the Daily Prophet."

"Thanks," Ron said, but he couldn't pay attention that right now. No, right now he was too focused on the fact that there was some strange writing in light pencil on the second page. He was making sure to cover it with his hand right now, in case it was important and shouldn't be seen, but he needed to make sure to look at it later. In fact...

"Harry, Hermione, can you save my place in the queue? I need to- use the loo, quickly."

Of course they said yes, and so Ron found himself, sitting in a stall, squinting at the newspaper. There was something wrong with the writing... but what was it... he couldn't quite put his finger on it...

 _It's backwards._ Also sent was a feeling of irritation. _The writing is backwards, you probably need a mirror._

 _Well, good thing we're in a lavatory, then._

After quickly checking to make sure no one else was there, Ron held the paper up to the mirror, and... sure enough, the reflection made the words readable. It read:

 _Found some things that could be helpful - for getting back._

 _Meet me in the Room of Hidden Things, after Defense Against the Dark Arts. Don't be late._

Ron felt annoyed. What was with this obsession about being on time? Did he think Ron was an idiot who had to reminded every single time not to be late or else Ron would forget - you know what, of course he would, he's Malfoy. _Great, a new reason to dread DADA on Thursday. Like I don't have enough already. But then, it did say, helpful for getting back..._

Something in Ron ached. Maybe he'd been working hard to avoid it, but now he had to admit: he was missing home. And Rose's birthday was coming up soon...

Okay, so Ron was afraid he'd miss it. Ron was afraid he'd miss all of it. He was afraid that he'd be stuck here forever, stuck in a body that was and wasn't his own, sharing it with someone else who also deserved to live their own life. What if he'd never be able to return, and everyone there would be stuck wondering what happened to him?

Well, standing around here wasn't going to help. He should go back to 14-year-old Harry and Hermione now, they'd probably be... wondering...

 _Listen, can we switch? I just, I can't stand around and pretend to be their friend, not right now... you can even eat your dinner, I don't care anymore..._

 _Um, sure. Are you okay? I mean, I know you're not okay, but is there anything I can do..._

 _Right now I think the best thing you can do for me is just to take over so I can slip away in the back of this mind for now._

Younger-Ron went along with it, and sure enough, Ron ended up spending all the time in the queue, and in the Great Hall, drifting away, further than he'd ever done before. It felt nothing he'd ever experienced before. The best way he could describe it, was that it was like he was exactly in between staying awake and falling asleep. It was like the light sleep he hadn't been getting. He was almost, not quite, dreaming, when a jolt startled him.

 _Hey, wake up. We're going to the library now. You remember why, right?_

 _Yeah, I have to have a nice, long, talk with Hermione on the complexity of house elf rights. I heard the hint, we'll switch back._

...Ten minutes later, Ron found himself thinking that it was fortunate that he had used Muffliato at the beginning, or else Madam Pince would have thrown them out by now, because their "discussion" was getting louder and louder.

"House elves like Winky only accept their horrible, horrible conditions, because they've been brainwashed and conditioned to accept them!"

Ron suppressed a sigh. This conversation was not going well. "I know, and I'm not disagreeing, I'm just saying, if you tell them that, they'll just feel insulted. And starting the liberation of house elves by ignoring what house elves tell you, seems like a bad idea, doesn't it?"

"So what, we're just supposed to accept that this country has slavery, because 'the slaves like it'?" Hermione, only further raising her voice, said, "That's the same kind of argument that slave owners used in the past, before Britain - only _Muggle Britain_ , apparently - outlawed slavery!"

"That's not - that's not what I'm saying-"

"Besides we already KNOW it's not true - Dobby wanted to become free!"

Yes! Dobby! That was the #3 he had been forgetting. "Then maybe that's where you should start!"

"What? What do you mean by that?"

"What I mean," Ron said, getting excited that he could remember what to say, "is that, you're right, Dobby wanted to become free - and surely Dobby can't be the only elf in the entire country that feels the same way?"

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "Go on..."

"So what I'm saying is... try and find other elves like Dobby, who want to be free. Ask Dobby what he thinks - even get Dobby's help to find those other elves, maybe - and then ask those elves you find, what they want, and try to help them get that first!"

"That's... not actually a bad idea." Hermione narrowed her eyes. "When did you care so much about house-elves, anyway?"

"Um... some of the things you said, convinced me?" _It's not technically a lie... just in a different place and time..._

Fortunately, Hermione believed it. Actually, she seemed excited that someone cared as well. Then they ended up spending some more time at the library to detail out plans for what to do next. By the time they had finished, Ron was worn out, but in a good way. It had been hard work, but not so bad. Maybe this would be the first thing, other than those dress robes, that Ron could make better by being here.

Maybe even his planning about Crouch and all of that wouldn't turn out so bad. And on Thursday, he might even be a step closer to getting back home...

The thoughts made him feel warm. By the time they got back to the dorms, Ron was ready to sink into his bed. Then his younger self spoke up.

 _I know you want to sleep, so I can make this short, but... can I ask you something about - the house elves stuff, and, what you said?_

 _Sure. What is it?_

 _That stuff you said about house elves to Hermione in the library... I didn't have anything else to do, so I overheard, and... it's making me - I'm not sure what to think._

 _It's okay not to know what to think,_ Ron sent back, trying to send back some feelings of encouragement as well. _It can actually be a good thing. What you're used to might not be right. I should know._

 _Older-Me? What do you - how many house elves, do you think, want to be free?_

 _I... don't know. But that's kind of the point, isn't it? We wixen haven't exactly paid a lot of attention to what house elves think. We mostly just take them for granted. When it originally happened for me - the only person who spoke up when Crouch fired Winky, was Hermione herself. That's... part of why I'm trying to fix this, for the better._

 _Oh. That makes sense._

 _Anything else?_

 _...No. Not now, anyway. You can go to sleep now. Sorry for keeping you up._

 _It's okay._ Then Ron shut his eyes, and dreamed about flying.

* * *

 _ **Chapter 6 is finally out.** _

**_Okay, wow. That ended up being my longest chapter, EVER. Some of it was pretty challenging to write, actually. But it was engaging, as well._**

 ** _Again: It may take some time for Chapter 7 to come up. Next week I'll be starting a job. I'm going to be busy. Just a heads up._**

 ** _As always: Please review if you can, and let me know what you think. If you have any questions, feel free to ask (though of course, among other things, I won't answer anything spoiler-y)._**


	7. Chapter 7

The week so far had been wretched enough.

In Potions earlier, Snape had been being more vicious than usual, especially to Neville. And Ron had snapped.

Maybe it was the increasingly frayed nerves from anticipation of DADA with Crouch. Maybe it was just that, after everything Ron had been through, he sure as hell didn't feel like putting up with Snape or even pretending to respect his authority (no, Ron didn't give a damn what he did later, right now he was just abusing a _child_ ). Maybe it was that apparently younger-Ron, after learning about dark plots from having an alternate older-self in his head for weeks, felt the same way.

Snape was only momentarily startled by their boldness when both Rons openly spoke out against Snape, before he grew coldly furious and sentenced Neville and Ron to joint detention.

While disemboweling both barrels of horned toads so Neville wouldn't have to be traumatized by doing the task himself, Ron, for the thousandth time, couldn't help thinking that he still had no idea why in Merlin's name Harry had decided it would be a good idea to name Al after the slimy fucking arsehole.

Then he'd realised that in the entirety of Potions, he hadn't seen Malfoy. The little bastard must have bunked. Great. Ron was stuck reliving Snape-style detention, and Malfoy was missing class and coasting. Ron growled as he shook out some more guts.

And now it was Thursday lunch. As soon as lunch was over, it was off to DADA with fake-Moody. With his damn Unforgivable Curses lesson. Ron was seriously doubting they'd would be able to stick to the plan of not standing out, no matter who was in control. He had even considered ditching, just this once, but reluctantly had to admit that Crouch or some of the students might notice his absence. So clearly, they needed to go to that class. They were just going to have to grin and bear it. Ron sent out, _Remember the plan?_

 _Yeah, we make sure to have a low profile, to not stick out too much, and to switch back and forth whenever the one in control is feeling tired, right?_

Ron sent a confirmation, and then went back to lunch. For once he ate slowly, as though that would make time slow down and he wouldn't have to go. Come on, Ron told himself, _I just have to make it through the lesson, and then I'll have that meeting with Malfoy in the Room of Hidden Things, that's something to look forward to... wait, am I seriously trying to motivate myself with the thought of_ meeting Malfoy?! _God, what even is my life now?_

Ron sighed and finished the rest of his lunch. Even though there was still time left, most of the fourth-year Gryffindor students, Harry included, were so eager that they had gone early. Ron forced himself to go with them so he could blend in with the rest. Sure enough, Hermione was the only one who came just in time instead of early.

"Sorry I'm late, been in the-"

"Library." Harry finished her sentence for her. "C'mon, quick, or we won't get any decent seats." They hurried over to the front. Meanwhile, younger-Ron volunteered to take the first shift, and Ron gratefully accepted.

Soon they heard Crouch's clunking footsteps coming down the corridor, and he entered the room, looking just like Moody. If Ron didn't know the truth, he would have been fooled as well. But then, Polyjuice Potion was powerful stuff. Looking back, it was prodigy-level that Hermione was able to make it perfectly as a second year.

"You can put those away," Crouch growled, stumping over to his desk and sitting, "those books. You won't need them." They returned the books to their bags, except younger-Ron who, knowing what the lesson was going to be, hadn't taken it out to begin with.

Crouch took out a register, shook his - Moody's - long gray hair out of Moody's face, and began to call out names, his normal eye moving steadily down the list while his magical eye swiveled around, fixing upon each student as they answered. Idly, Ron wondered if Crouch had stolen Moody's magical eye, or had bought one himself. After all, even the Polyjuice Potion couldn't replicate that. Younger-Ron himself bravely answered that he was present with only a slight waver in his voice.

"Right then," Crouch said, when the list was over, "I've had a letter from Professor Lupin about this class. Seems you've had a pretty thorough grounding in tackling Dark creatures - you've covered boggarts, Red Caps, hinkypunks, grindylows, Kappas, and werewolves, is that right?"

When the class of course said yes, Crouch said, "But you're behind - very behind - on dealing with curses. So I'm here to bring you up to scratch on what wizards can do to each other." _But what about what witches can do? Sexist much?_ Ron thought spitefully. _That's what Rose would say, for sure, if she was here. Then she'd ask about wixen who aren't male or female... Merlin, I miss her so much... Hugo, too..._

Crouch continued, "I've got one year to teach you how to deal with Dark curses. So - straight into it. They come in many strengths and forms. Now, according to the Ministry of Magic, I'm supposed to teach you countercurses and leave it at that. I'm not supposed to show you what illegal Dark curses look like until you're in the sixth year. You're not supposed to be old enough to deal with it until then. But Professor Dumbledore's got a higher opinion of your nerves, he reckons you can cope, and I say, the sooner you know what you're up against, the better."

Ron had to tune out the rest of Crouch's speech, for everyone's good, because nothing but pure hatred had shot through him right then.

 _For once, I actually agree with the Ministry; fourteen IS too young, far too young, and it's just sick that Crouch is not openly flaunting the law, but using praise to get all the students - who are all just kids, who don't know any better - to go along with it! The only reason they'd even need to know 'what you're up against', is because of people like YOU! And that's not even getting into what this lesson will do to Harry and Neville!_ Ron, now recalling how poor Neville had reacted to the spiders, felt new levels of rage rising up.

 _It's a very good thing,_ Ron thought, as he imagined going through breathing exercises to calm down, _that we decided to have switching shifts for this lesson._

"So... do any of you know which curses are most heavily punished by wizarding law?"

Several hands rose uncertainly into the air, including Hermione's. Crouch pointed at Hermione, though his magical eye was fixed on Lavender - Lavender had been caught looking at something else, right? Ron wasn't sure, he hadn't been paying full attention then.

"The Unforgivable Curses, sir. One of them is the Imperius curse." Hermione looked like she was about to launch into entire paragraphs, but Crouch cut her off.

"Yes, right. Gave the Ministry a lot of trouble at one time, the Imperius Curse did." Crouch got up, opened his desk drawer, and took out a glass jar. Just as he had remembered, three large black spiders were crawling around inside the jar. Normally Ron hated spiders, but knowing what was coming for them, he almost felt sorry for the bugs.

Crouch reached into the jar, caught one of the spiders, held it in his palm so everyone could see it, and then pointed his wand at it and muttered, "Imperio!"

The spider leapt from his hand on threads of silk, swinging back and forth. It did a back flip, cartwheeled, and when Crouch jerked his wand, the spider stood on two hind legs and did a tap dance. Everyone except Crouch laughed. Even younger-Ron involuntarily let out a snort, though he tried to silence it.

"Think it's funny, do you?" Crouch growled. "You'd like it, would you, if I did it to you?"

The laughter died after that. Younger-Ron, probably thinking about who Crouch really was and what he had done, sent out, _Please, let's switch. I just - I can't take this anymore._ Ron obliged.

This was fortunate for younger-Ron, because then Crouch quietly said, "Total control... I could make it jump out of the window, drown itself, throw itself down one of your throats..."

Ron, thinking that Crouch had probably actually done all that and more to innocent people during the first War, gave an involuntary shudder.

"Years back, there were a lot of witches and wizards being controlled by the Imperius Curse," said Crouch. "Some job for the Ministry, trying to sort out who was being forced to act, and who was acting of their own free will." Ron wondered if the uncles he'd never known, had experienced that before they died, and felt sick.

"The Imperius Curse can be fought, and I'll be teaching you how, but it takes real strength of character, and not everyone's got it. Better avoid being hit with it if you can. CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" he barked, and everyone, even Ron, jumped. Then Crouch picked up the spider and threw it back into the jar.

When Crouch made the spider swell in size, Ron, unable to stand it, pushed his chair backward, as far away from the professor's desk as possible. No one would notice; everyone would just think it was because he was afraid of spiders, wouldn't they?

It was at this point that younger-Ron suggested they switch again. Crouch pointed his wand at the spider and muttered, "Crucio!" While younger-Ron was able to watch what came next without screaming, Ron was very grateful to hide around in the mind, where he didn't have to see it at all, and only vaguely register Hermione and younger-Ron calling out for Crouch to stop. The thought of _Neville_ popped up, and Ron felt like his stomach would've lurched if he had one. He forcibly shoved the emotion aside and tried to focus on imagined abstract shapes floating around in the mindscape instead.

Ron felt an emotional jolt, and came back to see the third spider, dead. Younger-Ron was recoiling from it as though it was contaminated.

Crouch swept the dead spider off the desk onto the floor, and said calmly, "Not nice. Not pleasant. And there's no countercurse. There's no blocking it. Only one known person has ever survived it, and he's sitting right in front of me."

As he saw Crouch, and everyone else, staring at poor 14-year-old Harry, whose face was reddening, Ron felt his rage return. The rushing anger made him feel reckless, and so he sent out, _He's wrong, you know. You can block it._

 _Block it? The Killing Curse?_ His younger self sounded startled. After what had just happened, Ron didn't blame him at all.

 _Yes,_ he sent, defiantly. _It's true that there's no countercurse for it - well, except for what happened with Harry, sacrificial protection - but you_ can _dodge it. You can even block it with a physical barrier. I mean, if the spell hits something not alive, it could make an explosion or something, but that wouldn't kill you. And... also, you can kind of use Stunning Spells against it, but you have to be really careful with that one, I can explain more later..._

 _Wow... that's - wow... Wait, what's sacrificial protection?_

Oh, damn, was that opening up a bottle of Whizzing Worms. _Um... that's a story for another day... I'll tell you, but not right now, okay?_

 _Okay, FINE..._

Before they could discuss anything more, Crouch screamed, "CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" again, and just like earlier, the whole class jumped. Then Crouch started talking about how important it was to be prepared against these curses, and made everyone start taking notes. Younger-Ron insisted they should switch now, and Ron went along with it, but throughout the rest of the class, at any spare moment, Ron continued to explain internally the bit he'd said about the Stunning Spells. By the end of the class, he'd managed to get younger-Ron to understand it completely.

As soon as the bell rang and Crouch dismissed them, Ron rushed out, trying to get to Neville before Crouch did, with Hermione and Harry coming along. They found Neville standing alone, halfway up the passage, staring at the stone wall opposite him with a horrified, wide-eyed look. It was the kind of look that he only now realised, was what his Hermione would have called "shell-shocked."

"Neville-" Ron said, because he had to help him before Crouch came- "please..."

Neville looked around, like he hadn't expected anyone. "Oh hello," he said, his voice much higher than usual. "Interesting lesson, wasn't it? I wonder what's for dinner. I'm - I'm starving, aren't you?"

"Yeah, sure, uh- speaking about dinner, can you come with us?"

"Er, sure, very interesting dinner we had - I mean lesson - I mean, what's for eating?"

"That's great, Neville, now come with us-" Ron grabbed Neville's arm and started trying to drag him away. Hermione was glaring at him, but she didn't get it, he had to get Neville to leave before-

An ominous clunking noise sounded behind them, and they all turned to see what Ron dreaded: Crouch limping towards them. They all fell silent, but while the other three looked only suspicious, Ron suspected that he looked positively frozen.

"It's all right, sonny," he said to Neville. "Why don't you come up to my office? Come on... we can have a cup of tea..."

Neville looked terrified and unable to move. A voice defiantly said, "I think you've done enough." Ron was surprised to realize that it was younger-Ron speaking. Younger-Ron had seized control and evidently had something to say.

"What did you say?" Crouch growled.

"I said, I think you've done enough. We're taking Neville to dinner with us," younger-Ron said fiercely, standing his ground, refusing to look away from Crouch's gaze.

For a long, agonizing moment, nothing was said. You could have heard breathing, it was that quiet. Then Crouch let out a rough laugh, and said, "You've got spirit, boy! Arthur Weasley's son, eh? Well, alright, go off and have your dinner." He clapped one hand on younger-Ron's shoulder, and Ron had to admire how younger-Ron hardly flinched.

When Crouch hobbled away, Neville let out a deep exhale. All four of them started walking to the Great Hall.

"What was that?" Hermione asked. She sounded impressed.

"I don't care who he is," younger-Ron said seriously. "I'm tired of watching professors mistreat Neville. Neville, you're our friend, and you deserve better."

Neville looked embarrassed and startled, but stammered out a thanks. They walked quietly to the Great Hall together, but Ron was sure that by the time they reached the Hall, Neville was already looking a little brighter.

And then Ron remembered. _Oh, FUCK, how did I forget - I'm supposed to meet Malfoy in the Room of Lost Things, right after DADA! Oh, great, now I actually am going to be late - I have to get over there now!_

 _Can't we just lie and say Crouch kept us back or something? Do we have to go?_

 _If you ever want a chance of getting me out of your head, then YES!_

And so, younger-Ron had to use the same excuse of using the loo. Then they rushed off to the left corridor of the seventh floor of the Hogwarts castle. As fast as he could, Ron walked by it three times, thinking "I need to talk to Malfoy in the Room of Hidden Things."

The room was as he remembered it from before the Fiendfyre: the size of a large cathedral, with high windows sending golden streams of light down onto their surroundings, which looked like a city built of messy but strangely beautiful towers. It may have been filled with junk, but it was the junk of hundreds of years of history, which made it valuable, even priceless. And there were some genuine treasures scattered about here, too. Remembering the diadem, Ron made a mental note to remember to come back here later with a Basilisk fang or two...

"Malfoy?" Ron called out. He began to walk about the roads and pathways. "Malfoy, are you there?"

From behind a tower made up of dusty books, a trunk, some chairs, and a few bottles perched here and there, stepped out Malfoy. He was frowning. "You're late." He started to absentmindedly polish one of the empty bottles. "I specifically told you not to be late."

"Well, I got caught up with something with Neville - oh, wait, it's not like you actually care."

Malfoy glared at him. "Just don't be late again. I can't afford to waste any _time."_

"Whatever. You said in your note - thanks for writing it backwards, by the way, that was a pain to decipher - that you found some things that could be helpful for getting back. What are they?"

"I wrote it backwards to keep anyone else from accidentally reading it. Obviously. As for what I found... follow me and you'll see."

Ron followed Malfoy until he stopped at a pile made up of several books, a cauldron with some various potions ingredients inside, glass and mirrors of various sizes, a strange-looking glove, and an astrolabe. Ron also saw some scrolls, and he thought some of them were celestial and year charts, but some of the others, Ron couldn't make head or tail of what they were supposed to be depicting.

"This," Malfoy said, sounding pleased with himself, "is a good portion of what I've gathered so far, over the past few weeks, on our quest to discover what happened and how to reverse it, so we can go back home. Some of the materials, though, are still back on Malfoy estates. But I was able to bring almost all of the reading material here, even if I had to skip a class or two in order to do it."

Ron thought for a moment, then said, "Why didn't you just ask the Room of Requirement to give you all the reading material you could need to leave a parallel universe and return back to your normal body in your own universe? Wouldn't that have been easier than searching for weeks, and then having to bring it all here too?"

Malfoy opened his mouth in outrage, only for nothing to come out, probably because he must have realised that Ron was completely right.

"I mean, it just seems like it would be easier," Ron added, unable to resist.

Malfoy snapped back, "Well, what was I supposed to do, sit around and do nothing? Besides, some of these are extremely rare artifacts, who knows if the Room could even reproduce them!"

Ron shrugged. "Maybe, maybe not. The important question is, how is this stuff going to help us get back home?"

"First off, thanks to 'this stuff', what I suspected ever since the Quidditch Cup has been confirmed: our conditions are linked. Whatever caused this, it was the same cause for both of us, and either we both go back, at the same time, or neither of us do. Secondly... I _may_ have found an underground investigator, who could, potentially, help us find the remaining pieces we need to find the cause, and return back to our own universe. I haven't contacted them yet, just discovered them."

"What- who is this person? And how did you find them?!" Ron really didn't like the idea of bringing another person into all of this.

"I told you, they're an underground type. All I know about them is that, for a high enough price, they claim to find any magical text or magical materials, no matter how obscure, and that, for a higher price, they can do extra investigative work. This isn't a scam, either. I've checked, and the results are real. As for how I found them... well, we both know I have a lot of capital I can use."

Ron rolled his eyes. Did he really need to stealth brag? Oh, wait, of course he did, he's Malfoy. "Fine. They're real. Then here's another question: do you really think it's a good idea to bring another person into this? Especially one that you admit you know almost nothing about? And if they do anything for money, how do you know they won't just turn around and sell us out?"

"Do you have a better idea on how to find a solution? Because if so, I'd love to hear it," Malfoy said coldly. "Besides, they'll probably just assume it's another wealthy eccentric," he added dismissively. "They'd have no real reason to investigate us further. It's not like we're changing anything really noticeable, not anything that would make us suspicious enough to stand out."

 _Oh, fuck. Well, I have to tell him, so..._

 _Why do we have to tell him? Can't we just-_

 _Didn't you hear what he just said? Our conditions are linked! What if not updating him causes his solution to fail? And since he's working on the solution himself anyways, doesn't he deserve to know?_

 _Okay, okay, fine, Merlin!_

"Umm... about that..."

Flatly, Malfoy said, "What?"

"I.. kind of started planning early on, to work to change things for the better, and I've already started taking some steps towards that?"

"You WHAT?!"

Defensively, Ron yelled, "What, so I'm not allowed to make my own decisions now?"

"Not if they affect someone _else_ 's situation and you don't tell them!"

"I'm telling you now, aren't I?

"And _now_ might be too LATE!"

"What is with your obsession with being on time? So far every time we've talked, even in letters, you've brought up something about timeliness!"

"Because we are LITERALLY running on borrowed time! That's _another_ discovery I made: I have reason to think that, the longer we stay here, the _harder_ it will be to get back! So, no, we don't have even a second to waste! But apparently, playing hero is more important to you than that!"

Okay, that stung. Furiously, Ron yelled, "This isn't a game, this is about _saving lives_ \- not that you'd know anything about that!"

As soon as those words came out, he regretted it. Malfoy turned bright red, and then said, "Get out."

"What?"

"I said. Get. Out. I have _productive work_ to do and I refuse to be disturbed anymore. Go. _Leave_ _._ "

Ron was almost going to say something, but the look on Malfoy's face made him reconsider. And he did need to get back to dinner before the others became suspicious. So Ron left, still feeling uneasy. Had he gone too far?

But Ron didn't get much time to think on it, because as soon as they got back to the Great Hall, Hermione said, "Where were you? I was waiting for you, what took you so long?"

"Well, you know I said I needed to use the loo, so..." younger-Ron trailed off.

"Oh, ick, I don't want to hear that after I just ate. Anyways, I was going to go to the library, are you coming or not? I was just waiting to know if you were coming."

"Er, sure. We can go right now?" Internally, Ron received, _Should we... switch?_ His younger self seemed hesitant.

 _Um... let's see how it goes for now._

Then Neville spoke up: "What are you going to the library for? Can I come too?"

Younger-Ron looked at Hermione pleadingly. Hermione looked at Neville, and, perhaps thinking of the lesson they'd had earlier, said, "Sure, Neville, you can come. Harry, do you want to come too?"

"What? Uh, no. I think I'll... just go to the Common Room, after." Harry looked distracted, and Ron wondered sadly if he was still caught up in that awful Unforgivable Curses lesson. Well, they could make sure to check on Harry when they got back.

When they got to the library, Hermione started to get out a list of questions she had been working on to ask house elves. "Look, I was thinking that we should also ask questions about labor unions, and-"

"Um, Hermione, that's great, but...how about we just go down to the kitchens and see the house elves and talk to them first?"

"Yes, you're right! You are so right, we need to take _direct action_ now-"

"We're going to bring about the end of the oppressive treatment and abuse of house elves," Hermione said, fiercely. "This kind of outrageous abuse of our fellow magical creatures _must_ stop, and we're planning on bringing about better working conditions and protections, and eventually new legislation and hopefully even governmental representation -"

Younger-Ron, seeing the growing confusion on Neville's face, said, "Hermione, I think you're losing him. Why don't you just explain about Winky and Dobby?"

So Hermione did. She told Neville what she remembered about Winky. She talked about how Winky was forced to go up into the stands even though she was afraid of heights. About how when the Death Eaters attacked, Winky wasn't even able to run properly because of Crouch's orders. How Crouch blamed everything on Winky later. How even though Winky was frightened and her life endangered, Crouch didn't care about any of that, but only that she had disobeyed him. Then she angrily told about how coldly Crouch dismissed her even though she was _crying_ , and later Percy had actually _agreed_ with Crouch!

When she talked about Dobby, younger-Ron also added in some things he'd talked about with Ron earlier, but essentially, they ended up telling about how badly Dobby would punish himself, how Dobby defied his masters anyway because he was trying to protect Harry somehow, how Dobby had actually said that he wanted to be free, and how Harry had managed to trick Lucius Malfoy into freeing Dobby.

By the time they'd finished telling about Dobby, Neville seemed quite sympathetic, so at that point younger-Ron decided to step in and say, "So, as you can see... while we haven't figured out everything yet, right now, we're going to going to go to the kitchens to find out the Hogwarts elves' thoughts, about what they want, and then we'll see from there. What do you think?"

"That sounds... nice, I'd be glad to come," Neville said.

Hermione beamed. "Really? Oh, Neville, I knew I could count on you... as soon as I finish packing, let's go."

When Hermione reached the painting of the silver fruit bowl, she tickled the pear, it began to squirm, chuckled and then turned into a large green door handle. Hermione opened it, and they found themselves in an enormous, high-ceilinged room, as large as the Great Hall above it. There were mounds of glittering brass pots and pans heaped around the stone walls, and across on the other end of the room was a great brick fireplace.

As they walked further into the kitchen, they reached the four long wooden tables that stood there, placed, Ron remembered, exactly beneath the four House tables in the Great Hall above. At least a hundred house elves were standing around the kitchen, and they beamed, bowed and curtsied as Hermione, Neville, and younger-Ron walked by. The house elves were all wearing the same uniform, a tea towel stamped with the Hogwarts crest... except one.

The house elf turned around, and said in delight, "Oh, it is Harry Potter's friends! Dobby thinks it is very nice to see them!" Both Rons took a closer look to see what Dobby was wearing, which was a very... interesting mishmash. He was wearing a tea cozy covered with badges for a hat, a tie with a horseshoe pattern, soccer shorts, and mismatched socks. One was black and the other pink with orange stripes.

After asking to switch, Ron happily said, "Hi, Dobby." He had to, it was just so good to see Dobby alive and well again!

"Dobby, what're you doing here?" Hermione said in amazement, causing Ron to remember that Hermione must not have known about Dobby's position until this very moment.

"Dobby has come to work at Hogwarts, miss!" Dobby squealed excitedly. "Professor Dumbledore gave Dobby and Winky jobs, miss!"

"Winky?" Hermione gasped. "She's here too? Oh, thank goodness she's alright!"

Dobby hesitated. "Winky is here, miss, but..."

Dobby walked ahead, stopping only at the brick fireplace and pointed at a house elf sitting on the stool by the fire. "Winky, miss!" he said.

Once they saw Winky, it was clear, just by looking at her clothes, why you couldn't exactly describe her as "alright." Unlike Dobby's garments, which were so clean and well cared for that they looked brand new, Winky's clothes were in disrepair. While her blue hat was only a little smudged, her matching blouse had soup stains all over it, and her matching skirt had a burn. She also had a miserable expression on her face. Ron, remembering how much Winky had cried before, winced internally.

Neville nervously greeted Winky, and just as expected, Winky burst into tears.

"Oh dear," said Hermione. "Winky, don't cry, please don't..."

"Maybe... she needs to let it out," Ron said hesitantly.

"Perhaps... Oh, Neville, why don't we go talk with Dobby now, I suppose Winky needs some time to herself... Dobby, is that alright with you, can I ask you some questions?"

Dobby smiled at Hermione. "Certainly, miss, Dobby is happy to answer any questions! Would miss or sirs like a cup of tea?" he squeaked loudly, over Winky's sobs.

"Er - yeah, that would be fine," said Neville.

Instantly, about six house elves came trotting up behind them, bearing a large silver tray with a teapot, cups for all of them, a milk jug, and a large plate of biscuits.

 _Can we switch back now?_

 _Why? I mean, are you sure that's a good idea?_

 _I don't know, it just seems like the right time to do it... look, if you get nervous or something, I can help you, tell you stuff, maybe even switch again, okay?_

 _Okay..._

"Very good service!" Younger-Ron said, sounding impressed. The house elves all looked delighted, and they bowed very low before retreating. Ron could be mistaken, but he thought he felt younger-Ron relaxing, as well as mild confidence appearing.

As Dobby handed around the tea, and Neville and Ron helped themselves to biscuits, Hermione asked, "So, how long have you been here, Dobby?"

"Only a week, miss!" said Dobby happily. "Dobby came to see Professor Dumbledore, miss. You see, miss, it is very difficult for a house elf who has been dismissed to get a new position, miss, very difficult indeed -"

At this answer, Winky howled even harder, causing younger-Ron to hurriedly say, "Okay, this is all well and good, but - since you said Winky needs some time to herself - why don't we go somewhere else before we keep talking?"

"Good idea," Hermione said, and, with Dobby taking the silver tray, they walked quickly to a far-off corner of the large room. There Hermione encouraged Dobby to continue, but quietly.

"Dobby has traveled the country for two whole years, miss, trying to find work," Dobby said softly. "But Dobby hasn't found work, miss, because Dobby wants paying now."

Neville looked with interest (maybe he was surprised by really meeting an elf who wanted payment), and Hermione said, "Good for you, Dobby. You have a right to pay like everyone else!"

"Thank you, miss!" said Dobby, grinning at her. "But most wizards doesn't think so, miss, they doesn't want a house elf who wants paying. 'That's not the point of a house elf,' they says, and they slammed the door in Dobby's face! Dobby likes work, but he wants to wear clothes and he wants to be paid. Miss... Dobby like being free!"

"They're wrong," Hermione said, lowly but fiercely. "Dobby, I'm glad that you like being free and won't give it up, no matter what those rotten and unjust wizards said to you. That's why we came to the kitchens - we want to help house elves. We were going to talk to house elves and find out what they wanted, and help free any house elves who want to be free like you do, Dobby."

Dobby stared at Hermione, looking completely boggled, as though in shock that she would say something like that. Then he squealed out loudly, "Miss, you is just like the great Harry Potter, so kind, so generous, so unlike Dobby's old masters, they were bad Dark wizards-" Dobby abruptly stopped talking, rushed over the nearest table, and began to bang his head very hard on it, shouting, "Bad Dobby! Bad Dobby!"

Hermione, in horror, ran over, and pulled Dobby away from the table.

"Thank you, miss, thank you," said Dobby breathlessly, rubbing his head.

"You can call me Hermione, please," she said, looking out of breath herself, "or Hermione Granger, if you want."

"Thank you, Hermione Granger," Dobby said. "Dobby is not bound to his old masters anymore, so he can speak his mind now, but he is needing some practice."

Hermione looked newly horrified. "You mean house elves can't speak their mind about their masters?"

"Oh no, miss, no," said Dobby, suddenly looking serious. "'Tis part of the house elf's enslavement, miss. We keeps their secrets and our silence, miss. We upholds the family's honor, and we never speaks ill of them - though Professor Dumbledore told Dobby he does not insist upon this. Professor Dumbledore said we is free to - to -"

Dobby looked suddenly nervous and called Hermione closer. Hermione bent forward, and after Dobby whispered something, he let out a frightened giggle.

"What did he say?" Neville asked, sounding curious.

Hermione, now smiling, said, "He said that Dumbledore said they're all free to call Dumbledore a barmy old codger if they want."

Both Neville and younger-Ron laughed at that.

"But Dobby is not wanting to, Hermione Granger," he said, happily. "Dobby likes Professor Dumbledore very much, miss, and is proud to keep his secrets and our silence for him."

"How did you end up working for Dumbledore in the first place?" Neville asked. _Looks like Neville really is getting drawn into this as well,_ Ron sent.

"When Dobby is looking for work, then sir, Dobby goes to visit Winky, and finds out Winky has been freed too. And then Dobby had the idea, sir. 'Why doesn't Dobby and Winky find work together?' Dobby says. 'Where is there enough work for two house elves?' says Winky. And Dobby thinks, and it comes to him, sir! Hogwarts! So Dobby and Winky came to see Professor Dumbledore, sir, and Professor Dumbledore took us on!" Dobby was beaming very brightly, and happy tears welled in his eyes.

"And Professor Dumbledore says he will pay Dobby, sir, if Dobby wants paying! And so Dobby is a free elf, sir, and Dobby gets a Galleon a week, and one day off a month!"

Hermione, forgetting herself and their plan to speak quietly, yelled indignantly, "But that's not very much at all!"

"Oh, no, miss, Professor Dumbledore offered Dobby ten Galleons a week, and weekends off," said Dobby, and he suddenly gave a little shiver, apparently uncomfortable with such an offer. "But Dobby beat him, Hermione Granger, miss... Dobby likes freedom, miss, but he isn't wanting too much, miss, he likes work better."

Hermione frowned, but said, "I see... do you mind if I write that down?"

"Go write any things you want about Dobby, miss, Dobby doesn't mind waiting," Dobby said.

Once Hermione had finished jotting down some notes, Hermione looked at something she'd written down in some notebook, and then said, "Dobby, can I ask you a question about... history?" Dobby nodded eagerly.

"Recently, I've been researching anything about house elves thoroughly in the library. Elf enslavement goes back centuries. I can't believe no one's done anything about it before now... but that's not the point, at least not right now. I just wanted to ask: Dobby, do you know anything about the _start_ of elf slavery, about what started it, and what happened back then? I can't find anything on the cause or the beginnings. I was reminded by Ron that I can hardly bring about elf liberation if I don't know the whole story, so that's why I'm asking."

All at once, Dobby's face changed from being full of eagerness and excitement, to something deeply grave, sombre and distant. "Dobby... Dobby is very sorry, miss, but he - he cannot answer that question. It is not - it is too dangerous. No, Dobby must not answer that question at all."

Ron was sure all four of them were shocked, but Ron was the most shocked of all.

Frantically, he sent, _It is_ too dangerous? _It's been years, but I promise you, I know for a FACT that Dobby NEVER said anything like that before!_

 _Hey, I don't know what that means at all, either!_

Hermione was the first to recover. "Well, the last thing we'd want to do is make you uncomfortable, Dobby, so if you can't answer that question, that's completely fine. Why don't we change the subject?"

The unsettling expression on Dobby's face melted away, and soon Dobby was back to happily chatting about his life as a free elf, and even went over some of his plans for his wages. Dobby mentioned he was planning on buying a sweater, so younger-Ron generously offered to give Dobby his upcoming Christmas sweater (funnily enough, Ron had done the same thing), and Dobby happily accepted the offer.

When they were about to leave, the rest of the elves came over and offered snacks to take back upstairs. Younger-Ron, remembering how he didn't have much of a dinner, ended up taking enough cream cakes and pies for two people. Neville also took a pile, and even Hermione took a few when younger-Ron, mouth full of cream, suggested it would offend the house elves if she didn't.

They all thanked the house elves greatly before saying good night, and when Dobby timidly asked younger-Ron if he might be able to see Harry Potter sometime, younger-Ron said he'd ask Harry, but that he was sure that Harry would love to see Dobby again. Dobby beamed.

Still, Ron couldn't quite shake off that brief, unsettling moment. What kind of answer to a simple history question could be so dangerous that Dobby couldn't even say it?

And then it came to him: when someone wants to keep the truth of history hidden.

Ron was certain he would have felt a chill go down his spine if he'd been in control then. As it was, all he could do was to make sure not to send these thoughts to younger-Ron. There was no point in both of them being worried about ominous but vague realizations that neither of them could do anything about.

As they headed back to the dorms, Ron tried his best to push all that aside. By the time they arrived, Ron was feeling better... and then he saw Harry. 14-year-old Harry, sitting on his bed, staring at a letter in his hands. Ron wondered, sadly, how long Harry had been sitting there.

"I shouldn't have told him," Harry said numbly.

Ron sent, _Younger-Me, you need to take this. He needs his best friend._

Younger-Ron approached Harry, and said, "Harry... what happened?"

"I shouldn't've told him! About my scar hurting! It's made him think he's got to come back!" Harry slammed his fist into his mattress. "He's going to come back, because he thinks I'm in trouble! And there's nothing wrong with me!"

"Harry... just because Sirius is coming back, doesn't mean for sure-"

"Yes it does! Or at least there's more of a chance! And all because of me! Because I had to open my big mouth, and blab, instead of keeping it to myself..."

"Harry-"

"I don't want to talk. I'm going to sleep now." Harry lay down then, but he still had the letter in his hand, and god, was it hitting hard again just how vulnerable 14-year-old Harry could really be. It was terrible to watch him blame himself like that. Ron wished he could do something for him, but somehow he got the feeling that 14-year-old Harry was just going to spend a long time staring at the canopy of his bed this night.

And that the same thing was going to happen to Ron and his younger self.

Sighing internally, Ron prepared himself for a long night of being kept up by his own thoughts - and by thoughts not his own, too.

* * *

 ** _Chapter 7, hot off the press._**

 ** _Somehow I was able to write this chapter freakishly fast. It was very challenging at times to write, though. And, again: new longest chapter!_**

 ** _As always: I may not update regularly (so no, I don't know when Chapter 8 is coming, though I do have ideas for it). Please review if you can, and let me know what you think. If you have any questions, feel free to ask (though of course, among other things, I won't answer anything spoiler-y)._**

 ** _Also: the descriptions of the scenery in the Room of Hidden Things are inspired by this amazing DeviantArt piece by AncientKing, called, Room of hidden things. I highly recommend you check it out._**


	8. Chapter 8

The next morning, Harry said over breakfast that he'd woken up early and sent Sirius a letter saying that he'd just imagined his scar hurting and so Sirius shouldn't come back.

"But that's a lie, Harry!" Younger-Ron said. "You didn't imagine your scar hurting and you know it!"

"So what?" 14-year-old Harry curtly replied. "He's not going back to Azkaban because of me."

Ron could feel waves of both anger and worry coming from his younger self, and younger-Ron opened his mouth to argue some more, but, to Ron's surprise, Hermione said sharply, "Drop it. What's done is done. Let's just move on."

Ron was not entirely sure if _Harry_ had moved on, but younger-Ron dropped it. As guilty as it made him feel, that topic indeed very quickly dropped off their list of high concerns. There was simply too much to do and to worry about in the next few weeks. Firstly, the professors were all increasing their demand and difficulty in lessons, which all the fourth years had noticed.

Trelawney had tasked them all to turn in detailed analyses of the way the planetary movements would affect them, with references to their personal charts, for the coming month of October. Binns was giving out weekly essay assignments on eighteenth-century goblin rebellions. Snape was forcing them to research antidotes, with implied threats of poisoning one of them to see if the antidote worked. And considering the things Dumbledore had allowed Snape to get away with, those threats being completely serious was disturbingly possible. Flitwick had assigned them to read three extra books as preparation for their lessons on Summoning Charms.

The extra work, except for the essays, wasn't that bad for Ron, being 32 and a graduate of Hogwarts. (Yes, despite not attending his seventh year, he was technically a graduate. Hermione had insisted that he take those specially designed tests McGonagall had created for those who would have otherwise have graduated in 1998. Honestly, it had been a trial, but he had...passed.) Younger-Ron, on the other hand, was struggling, mainly with the essays, but also with the extra reading, and so had decided that meant he was entitled to whine and nag Ron constantly to help him. Ron would have been fine with that, except that by "help," his younger self really meant, "do it all for me."

Ron, after getting increasingly annoyed, finally sent to his younger self, _Look, if I could do it, so can you! And I AM willing to help you, because I know some of this can be really challenging for us, but I'm NOT going to do it entirely for you. Mainly because I don't plan on staying here to do your homework for you forever, so you're going to have to learn how to do it yourself, eventually!_

Younger-Ron stopped asking Ron to do his schoolwork for him after that. Even better, he took Ron's offer, and actually listened to and followed Ron's advice and guidance. Ron helped by making sure younger-Ron stayed focused by sending out reminders anytime he drifted off.

All this being said, younger-Ron continued to whine and moan about how horrible it was and how much work it was. While that could get a bit irritating, Ron did have to agree that the workload was getting to be a bit too much, even for the typical student. Even Hagrid was adding to their workload. He'd suggested that they all come down to his hut on alternate evenings to observe the skrewts and make notes on their extraordinary behavior, proposing this with the air of Father Christmas pulling an extra-large toy out of his sack.

Naturally, after the announcement, Malfoy began to complain on the skrewts. By now this was an action that Ron had simply resigned himself to having to witness multiple times during every Care of Magical Creatures lesson until they got back home, or got to the point that the skrewts ate each other, whichever came first.

"If it's a 'suggestion', does that mean it's not required?" Malfoy said, coldly. "Because if it's not required, then I'm not going. I already have to see more than enough of these foul things during lessons. I'm not endangering my well-being anymore, thanks."

Hagrid's smile melted off his face.

"Keep talking like that, Malfoy and you'll be getting detention."

Malfoy paled further, then flushed in anger. "For what? For speaking the truth? Is that against the rules now? And I have things to do-"

"Looking forward to a night in the Forbidden Forest, are you?"

Malfoy had shut up then, likely not willing to risk losing more precious time needed for toiling away in the Room of Hidden Things. Still, Ron highly doubted it would last. He was sure that by the next lesson Malfoy would be back to his whingeing. And he was right. But speaking of spending time in the Room of Hidden Things...

That was secondly: Ron was also busy having plenty of Room of Hidden Things meetings. Truthfully, Ron had been a little concerned, since their first meeting had ended in a fight, but Malfoy seemed to have settled on the strategy of let's-pretend-that-never-happened, which was fine by Ron.

However, Malfoy also said that since Ron had already made changes, and was going to continue making changes, then he was going to insist to be told everything, because he needed to know in case it could interfere in the solution to getting back. Ron wasn't exactly happy to share, but had to admit internally that that was a valid point, so...

Malfoy didn't care about any of the changes involving house elf issues, and said so. Ron couldn't help feeling annoyed, but, well, it worked in their favor if Malfoy didn't care, so whatever.

When Ron told about how younger-Ron stood up to Crouch, though, Malfoy actually said, "You need to get your younger counterpart under control, Weasley."

Ron, in a burst of irritation (partly because he was impressed with younger-Ron's courage for that choice), said, "We actually _switch_ back and forth, because we're a team."

"I really couldn't care less, but I am going to be mad if his attracting Crouch's attention gets us all in trouble."

"It won't!"

"Make sure it doesn't."

"I _know_ it won't, because, when it happened originally, _I_ said something in class to attract Crouch's attention - which didn't happen here, because we kept quiet during the class - and nothing came of it."

"So that's another change you didn't feel the need to inform me?"

"Well, _you_ also didn't attract Crouch's attention for something you originally did, and _don't_ ask what I'm talking about, because we _both_ know what," _getting turned into a ferret,_ he thought privately, "so what's your point?"

Malfoy, glaring now, said, "Just continue with the list of changes."

The rest of the changes were less important, and Ron said so, but Malfoy only said, "I'll be the judge of that. Tell me all of the changes." So then Ron, feeling annoyed, told about things like getting new robes or finishing Divination work early or not getting extra Divination homework. Just to be safe, he also told about Trelawney's aura reading, even though that wasn't actually a change that Ron had chosen to do. Unsurprisingly, Malfoy dismissed Trelawney's statements, saying that they were too cryptic for anyone else to understand.

"Now that I finished telling you all the changes, it's your turn to spill: what's going on with your weird investigator type? And what other progress did you make in the solution? I want to get back as soon as possible."

 _"For the highly skilled and expensive investigator that I spent a great deal of effort to find:_ I sent an offer in a letter, and before you ask why that takes so long, it's much more complicated than it sounds, since the investigator doesn't accept owls, or any mail-by-bird, actually, and has a far longer process for communication. Currently I'm waiting for an answer. As for other progress... you do realise that I've been doing all the work, right? Of course I want to get back as soon as possible, too... but there's only so much I can do when I'm working ALONE..." Malfoy looked at Ron pointedly.

Oh, great. Ron signed internally. He was probably going to really regret this later, but... "Is there... anything I can...help...with?"

 _Wait, you're_ volunteering _to work with Malfoy?_

 _Well I'm already working with him, aren't I? And I do want to get this done faster after all; if that means working with Malfoy some more, then so what, I've handled worse._

Ron could feel skepticism radiating from his younger self, but he wasn't complaining about it, probably because it wasn't like younger-Ron needed to do any work, but you know what, Ron was going to count this as a win anyway.

"Oh, I'm glad you asked," Malfoy gloated, "because there are so many tasks that need doing-" As Malfoy unfurled out a massive list of parchment and began to read aloud, starting with "Item 1, of 67, and Counting," all Ron could think was, _I'm regretting this already._

After that, the meetings were more like workout sessions, where Malfoy had him carrying, dragging, pushing, and placing objects. Ron always went along with it, since it wasn't like _he_ could reliably do the research and theory part, and someone had to do the manual labour part. Malfoy claimed the objects were important and rare ingredients and artifacts that were vital for the solution, but whatever they were, they could be heavy.

Predictably, Malfoy wasn't much for sympathy, only pausing from whatever book he was reading to either tell Ron that he'd placed an object in the wrong place or something, and needed to do it over again, or to tell Ron to "keep your grunting/muttering/grumbling down." The last part was a bit maddening, since it only happened when the things were AT LEAST 30 or 40 kilograms, not that the little snot cared.

Sometimes Malfoy would read aloud the letters he and the strange investigator exchanged, and based on what he was hearing, Ron found himself wanting to meet this bizarre person. He had the feeling that if she was here, his Hermione would call them "an eccentric."

Malfoy had also asked him to come to meetings during class, but Ron had put his foot down. As it was, the Room of Hidden Things meetings were already cutting into younger-Ron's time. Missing class, while tempting, would only make the schoolwork harder, and was a step too far. Ron felt it was too unfair to younger-Ron. He told Malfoy that he wasn't ditching class, not even for this. Of course Malfoy wasn't happy with Ron's answer, but since he couldn't actually force Ron to come, he'd had to accept it. That was probably why Malfoy didn't even bother to ask Ron to join in his many all-nighters. Ron didn't know how Malfoy wasn't falling asleep in classes constantly. Maybe he was having the Room of Requirement conjure up Pepper-Up Potions.

Ron felt he'd made the right decision. The schoolwork was growing so much that, despite putting genuine effort and following Ron's advice, his younger self was feeling deep frustration. Even the other fourth years were noticing the increase. In one Transfiguration class, when the class gave an especially loud groan at the amount of homework assigned, McGonagall finally explained why.

"You are now entering a most important phase of your magical education! Your Ordinary Wizarding Levels are drawing closer -"

Dean Thomas interrupted her, saying, "We don't take O.W.L.s until fifth year!"

"Maybe not, Thomas, but believe me, you need all the preparation you can get! Miss Granger remains the only person in this class who has managed to turn a hedgehog into a satisfactory pincushion. I might remind you that your pincushion, Thomas, still curls up in fright if anyone approaches it with a pin!"

Hermione turned rather pink, and was trying not to look too pleased with herself. Ron wondered that if McGonagall was being too hard on Dean Thomas, though. Hermione was hardly a typical student to compare to. Even at 14, Hermione was a student who could memorise entire textbooks by heart. If it really was only Hermione who could do the task, maybe these were unreasonable expectations.

 _Besides,_ Ron sent, _I know for a fact that that's not the whole reason - preparation for O.W.L.s, I mean. I know the other reason: the professors are trying to get us into shape so they can impress the other schools coming for the Triwizard Tournament: Beauxbatons and Durmstrang. Good luck getting that to happen though._ Ron scoffed internally.

 _Why's that?_

 _I just don't think it's even possible to impress them, not in such a short time. Don't get me wrong, I love Hogwarts, but the other two schools are more advanced in some ways. I'm not even talking about magic: I remember all the students who came could speak English, while Hogwarts doesn't even offer other language courses. So yeah, there's no way we'll get up to speed fast enough to impress the foreign students._

And speaking of getting up to speed, Crouch's wretched Imperius lesson had come and gone. Now that he knew about Crouch's true identity and agenda, the lesson seemed stranger than ever. Ron didn't find it strange that Barty Crouch Jr. was perfectly willing to cast the Imperius curse on 14-year-olds, that seemed in character for the ruthless terrorist. No, what he found strange was, why was Crouch actually trying to teach them how to resist the curse, especially with Harry?

He'd wracked his brain, but the only explanation Ron could come up with was that Crouch wanted Harry to survive long enough to win the Tournament, and so he was making certain that Harry would end up in the graveyard... but that was such a roundabout way to do it. And it still didn't seem to make sense that he'd want to make Harry even more competent at fighting the Dark Arts. Maybe he'd figure it out later.

Ron had come very near to fighting against the lesson, actually. When Crouch announced at the beginning that he would be putting the Imperius Curse on each of them, to demonstrate its power and test any resistance, Hermione had spoken up.

"But - but you said it's illegal, Professor. You said - to use it against another human was - "

"Dumbledore wants you taught what it feels like. If you'd rather learn the hard way - when someone's putting it on you so they can control you completely - fine by me. You're excused. Off you go." He pointed a finger toward the door. Poor Hermione muttered something about not meaning she wanted to leave.

A red-hot shot of rage ran through Ron. It was only with every shred of self-control he had that Ron didn't lose it and try to strangle Crouch right then and there.

 _How dare he, how dare he just ignore, just dismiss her completely valid points - how DARE he emotionally manipulate a 14-year-old to get her to stop speaking about how you're OPENLY declaring to commit a serious CRIME of just about the HIGHEST degree - this is SICK, this is such FUCKING bullshit - you know what, that's it, I don't care anymore, I'm going to choke out that motherfucker, you just see if I don't -_

A message cut through the burning fury. _Um - you're clearly not - you're... upset, so... do you want to try that... breathing thing you did before - well, imagined before - you know what I mean... to calm down -_

 _I don't WANT to calm down, I WANT to see that murderous, Voldemort-resurrecting prick, PAY -_

 _Look, I get it, I really do-_

 _No, you don't! You don't know what it was like to see Harry coming out of the maze carrying Cedric's CORPSE! Cedric died, Harry had to watch Cedric die, had to watch Voldemort come back to full power, and it's all! Because! Of! Crouch!_

Ron felt an emotional jolt. Younger-Ron wasn't sending anything back in words, but Ron could sense, could feel his reaction. Ron had gut punched his younger self, and it was crushing the kid. The realization made Ron's anger wash away, replaced by guilt.

 _I shouldn't have snapped at you like that. It's not like it's your fault... You're right, there's nothing I can do right now, so I'll forget about it. I - I'll do the breathing... I'm sorry._

 _No, it's - ... yeah, it was awful, but I think I needed to know - I needed to hear it? At least now I know... I need some privacy, I think, to... think about all this._

 _Sure. And I'll do the breathing._

Ron, trying to let out his emotions, both the remains of anger and the new guilt, ended up using equal breathing: inhale six, exhale six. It wasn't the best technique for his issue right now, but it was both easy and not that noticeable. And not being noticed was the most important part.

Using breathing exercises and other calming methods ended up being vital for making it through, because the whole lesson was nerve-wracking to watch. Despite the ridiculous actions Crouch made the students do, both Rons couldn't find it the slightest bit funny. Knowing that Crouch was exactly the kind of person to use the Imperius curse in earnest, to torture or kill, removed the humour in watching Dean Thomas hop around the room singing the national anthem, Lavender imitating a squirrel, or Neville doing gymnastics.

But it was when Crouch got to Harry, 14-year-old Harry, that Ron gasped a little in spite of himself.

Ron knew it was stupid, really, because he'd seen this before, and knew that Harry would be fine... mostly, but it was still so stressful to watch. The only way he was able to force himself not to intervene, especially when Harry fractured both his kneecaps, was repeating to himself over and over, _Fighting off Imperio is a good skill for Harry to learn, maybe even necessary, fighting off Imperio is a GOOD skill for Harry to learn, maybe even necessary..._

Ron also talked younger-Ron into taking control when Crouch cast Imperio on them. He told younger-Ron that this was a terrible situation that shouldn't have happened, but the harsh fact was that he already had some practice with fighting off Imperio, while younger-Ron didn't. Younger-Ron reluctantly agreed.

Ron was surprised when younger-Ron actually showed a tiny bit of resistance. It wasn't noticeable from the outside, but Ron was able to observe it. Interestingly, Crouch's Imperio didn't seem to affect Ron at all, he hadn't even had to fight it. Maybe it was because Crouch had only aimed it at younger-Ron? Or maybe because the Imperius Curse was only meant for one person at a time?

Either way, even if no one else knew younger-Ron had resisted, Ron still found his younger self's performance impressive. When Ron had gone through the lesson, not only did it work completely, but the effects - skipping every alternate step - didn't even wear off until lunchtime. With younger-Ron, the effects wore off just seconds after Crouch removed the curse. Ron couldn't say for sure, but he thought... it just might be that, with all that younger-Ron had been going through, it had given the kid some new resolve that Ron hadn't had at that age.

Ron sent out thoughts saying all this to younger-Ron. Younger-Ron seemed caught off-balance, but sent back a clumsy thanks. He seemed shocked to get any compliment at all, reminding Ron that younger-Ron hadn't mastered their old insecurities yet. Maybe he should consider saying something about that... well, later, he could decide. It would take tricky handling, and Ron didn't want to make things worse.

Thirdly: he'd tried not to think about it, but - 20 October was Rose's birthday. And Ron had known early on that it was a long shot, but he'd hoped anyway, and... oh, he'd been so stupid.

Ron spent the whole day of 20 October in an extraordinarily foul mood. He grumbled and scowled at everyone. Professors scolded him for his bad attitude, and Ron only glared back at them. Even with 14-year-old Harry and 15-year-old Hermione, he was curt and grumpy. He went after his food with his fork and knife like he had a personal vendetta with it. Finally, after snapping much more than usual in that day's Room of Hidden Things meeting, Malfoy said irritably, "What is wrong with you?"

And that was the straw that broke the Granian horse's back. Ron started yelling.

"What's wrong with me? What's WRONG with me?! What's **wrong** with me, is today is my daughter's _birthday,_ and I _should_ be celebrating with her, I should be _there_ for her, and I'm not, because I'm too busy running around pretending to be fourteen! But I'm NOT fourteen, I'm a grown man and a dad, and my little girl is turning six, and she's doing it without me! What kind of parent am I?!"

Having let it out, now Ron just felt dispirited, and... tired. And the guilt remained. Because, god, what kind of a parent was he? Sure, he could say that he didn't choose to end up here, but what would that matter to Rose? And more importantly, he hadn't been putting an awful lot of effort into leaving either, had he?

Malfoy had been the one researching on how to get back home even before they got to Hogwarts, he'd been the one to get the investigator who was speeding things along, he'd been missing classes and even pulling all-nighters in trying to work on the solution, and what was Ron doing? Deciding that, of all things, fourth-year homework was more important? And pushing around and moving things - literally anyone with a sound body could do that. Let's face it, he was only one step above completely useless throughout all this.

"...But nothing I say or do can do a damn thing about it, can it?"

Ron kicked a cobwebbed birdcage, rusted yet still gleaming. A few chipped cups and a parasol fell out of a pile the cage had been lying against. He hoped he'd broken something in the pile. For good measure, he kicked the pile again. Now he heard a crunch. _Well, at least I can still do that._

Finished with his tiny destruction for now, Ron looked up to meet a blank expression on Malfoy's face. For a moment he felt disappointment, then felt peeved with himself. _What did I expect? Actual sympathy? C'mon, this is Malfoy we're talking about. Sure, we're not at each other's throats anymore, we can even maybe be civil whenever we're forced to interact, but that's about it. I mean, what next, I'm going to be upset he doesn't send me a card for my birthday? This whole two-minds-one-body thing must be wrecking my common sense or something, that's the only explanation. Merlin's fucking beard do I need to get it together._

Interrupting his thoughts, Malfoy, looking away, said, "The investigator told me that the best point of time to return to, is, the time spent here, added to the original time of departure." He was looking away.

"What?"

Malfoy, still averting his eyes, said, "That would mean, for example, if we were able to set up the finished solution in 19 November, 1994, the time we would return to in our universe, would also be 19 November, preferably the same hour and minute as well, but in the year of 2012."

Ron tried to wrap his head on that. "Okay... and you're bringing this up now because..."

"The investigator said that was the best timeframe to return to. But they said the second best point of time to return to... is the original time of departure."

"Wait... but that would mean-" Ron couldn't finish his sentence. It was too much to bear, fear and hope clinging to those few fragile words.

"It would mean that we could return, and for everyone there, no time would have passed between us leaving and us returning." Malfoy's gaze had darted to a pile on his left, a wobbly-looking stack made up of hats, cloaks, jewels, what looked like the remains of a globe, a broken lantern, and even a few Fanged Frisbees. "...We could execute that option. If you want."

"I..." Ron was in shock. This was - this was really something they could do? They could - they could just go back, and it would be like they'd never left?

"It isn't the optimal course. That being said, it is the second best course. Furthermore, it has its... advantages. This makes it a reasonable possibility."

"I don't know what to say."

"Then you can make the decision once we finish the solution."

"Okay... what are we going to work on now?"

"Get me that mirror-encrusted chest over there, and we'll see what comes next. Which reminds me... I'm planning on getting a souvenir - a token, to show where, and when, I've been. I might ask the investigator for advice on what to get..."

While Malfoy continued talking, Ron walked over to bring the mirror-chest. Even walking back with the chest weighing on his arms, he wasn't feeling as terrible. Maybe this day wasn't the complete worst.

Another situation with unexpected returns? Fourthly: Hermione with the house elves. While every other fourth year was getting worn out, over the past few weeks Hermione had only become more energized, due to the current house elf efforts being so successful so far. The efforts had a steady rhythm now.

Dobby went and accepted Dumbledore's earlier offer to have weekends off (though he still refused the increase of Galleons), so he could spend his weekends going out and talking to house elves outside of Hogwarts, and find anyone who admitted they wanted to be free. Then he would convince those house elves to visit Hogwarts to talk to the rest of the House-Elf Liberation Front, members at first made up of Dobby, Hermione, Neville, and younger-Ron, but slowly growing in size as each rebellious house elf joined. Their meeting location was in the kitchens, and they'd ask questions and discuss with the house elves Dobby brought, with Hermione taking notes. Most recently, the members of HELF, humans and house elves alike, were working on brainstorming ways to gain liberation for freedom-thirsty house elves.

Ron was honestly astonished by the whole setup. He really hadn't expected it would turn out like... this. Yes, Ron was the one to help guide the efforts at the very beginning, but Ron, while keeping a careful watch, never drifting off, hardly even stepped in now. The name had been one of the few times Ron had stepped in; remembering with guilt how he and others had mocked Hermione's name of S.P.E.W., Ron suggested they call themselves the House-Elf Liberation Front instead.

Organization names aside, younger-Ron would pretty much always take control. Younger-Ron had gotten quite involved, actually. Every new house elf they met was so different, both from the stereotypes of house elves, and just from each other, it was fascinating... to everyone there. Well, to every human, including both Rons, and to some of the house elves there.

One house elf, Cantankerus, was insistent that history was most important, though she refused to talk about what that history was, aside from a fiercely dropped cryptic statement that elves had words of their own, that no wizard could take away from them. Neville and Hermione ended up finding out she meant that house elves had something like a secret language.

Another house elf, Tepper, didn't even want to be paid, but said they still wanted to be free, because they wanted to have the freedom to wear clothes, the freedom to come and go as they wished, and most important to them, the freedom to pursue an education, and the freedom to be "benefactor" to whoever they chose, rather than be enslaved and bound to only one family. This had given even Hermione pause, and she admitted, in a voice of shame, that she hadn't even thought about house elves getting an education.

There was even one house elf named Elsey, who seemed to be Hermione's dream, because she was mainly interested in things like contracts, wage negotiation, and even labor unions and healthcare. She often came to Hermione with long notes of her own, and their talks would get long and excitable.

All in all, things were going well for HELF. Hermione had an in-progress manifesto she was constantly updating that neither Rons had managed to read yet. They'd also made a logo, and Dobby stitched up a few patches for the members. Even Harry had gotten one.

Younger-Ron had remembered to ask Harry Dobby's request to see Harry, and of course Harry said yes. After that, Dobby began to visit Harry at the dorms sometimes, and eventually invited Harry to the kitchens for a meeting. While Ron got the feeling Harry might have joined just out of kindness for Dobby, he did show up. Dobby was delighted, and Harry actually seemed a little more relaxed, afterwards. After that, he came to a few more meetings, and Harry started to seem... better.

It was very stress-relieving for Ron, because 14-year-old Harry's misery and tension had been bothering him whenever he remembered (and made him feel guilty), but he wasn't able to figure out what to do to cheer Harry up. It wasn't like Harry had Quidditch to take the edge off, after all. Spending time with Dobby, and even sort-of joining the house elf cause, was really not what Ron had expected would pull Harry out of his gloom and stress, but hey, whatever worked, right?

In about the last week before the other schools' arrivals, the notice about the groups from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang coming on 30 October had been posted. On the day of posting, a large crowd of students all milled around the large sign stuck onto the foot of the marble staircase in the entrance hall. Because it was so crowded, 14-year-old Harry and Hermione couldn't see, so younger-Ron read out the sign. Ron knew it wasn't as easy as he made it look, and there might've been some words said wrong, but Harry and Hermione didn't seem to know or care.

Right after that, Ernie Macmillan came out of the crowd. "Only a week away!" His eyes were gleaming. "I wonder if Cedric knows? Think I'll go and tell him..."

"Cedric Diggory..." Younger-Ron said, maybe remembering what Ron had said. Ron himself briefly imagined tackling Ernie and physically preventing him from telling Cedric anything. But of course that was ridiculous...

"He must be entering the tournament," said 14-year-old Harry.

"Yeah..." younger-Ron said, just to say something back. Ron was feeling guilty now. He'd been so busy over the past some weeks, he'd only barely thought about Cedric... well, that had to change... this coming week, he needed to start, no, he would start, on working on those plans...

And he did. In the next week, every spare moment he had, he spent writing things out - well, his Quick-Notes Quill did. After firmly telling younger-Ron, _there is nothing embarrassing about asking your best friends for a simple favor_ _,_ younger-Ron finally, reluctantly asked Harry and Hermione if either could please get a Quick-Notes Quill for Ron, and Harry said yes. Using the things he'd learnt over the years - spells and muggle strategies alike - he ended up coming up with a lot to say, using a lot of parchment (oh, how he missed computers, or even just lined paper and pens!), which he regularly Charmed so others couldn't read it. After all, he didn't want just anyone to see his strategising on, say, preventing a future war, changing Cedric's fate, or the outcome of the Tournament.

Ron wasn't the only one drilling down. In general, the staff of Hogwarts seemed to be bending over backwards in preparing for the other schools' arrival. The castle was being cleaned more than ever, with the suits of armour now gleaming and squeak-free, Argus Filch yelling ferociously at any student who forgot to wipe their shoes, something that a distracted Ron/younger-Ron experienced more than once, and even dirty portraits were scrubbed clean. Many of the professors were oddly tense, including even... McGonagall. She'd actually lost her temper when, at the end of a challenging lesson, Neville accidentally transplanted his own ears onto a cactus.

"Longbottom, kindly do not reveal that you can't even perform a simple Switching Spell in front of anyone from Durmstrang!" Ron was so shocked by this outburst he hadn't even thought to say anything. Maybe it did happen the same way before, and Ron just forgot, but it just seemed so strange and... out-of-character for McGonagall. The woman who'd fought against Death Eaters during what would have been seventh year, and spent the following year as an unflappable Headmistress who almost single-handedly kept the school from falling apart, seemed a far cry from this.

As for poor Neville, he did get his ears back, but not without painful marks from several cactus needles. _Maybe I should tell Neville to get a new wand sooner than later..._

The morning of the 30th of October, they went down to breakfast to find the Great Hall decorated overnight like Ron remembered. There were four enormous silk banners hung from the walls, one for each Hogwarts House, and behind the teachers' table was an even larger banner, bearing the Hogwarts coat of arms: all four house animals united around a large letter H.

Fred and George were sitting apart from everyone else, and talking quietly. Ron, almost certain they were still scheming on sneaking into the Tournament did not want to sit next to them and hear it. Unfortunately, Harry led the way over to them, and then younger-Ron decided to betray him by telling him that, I _t would be suspicious if you didn't go!_ So Ron had drag his feet and follow Harry and Hermione.

George, speaking to Fred, said, "It's a bummer, all right. But if he won't talk to us in person, we'll have to send him the letter after all. Or we'll stuff it into his hand. He can't avoid us forever."

Ron was happy not to speak up, or, in fact leave, but unfortunately, Harry had to open his big mouth and say, "You two got any ideas on the Triwizard Tournament yet? Thought any more about trying to enter?" _No, Harry, don't encourage them! They do enough as is!_ "I asked McGonagall how the champions are chosen but she wasn't telling," George answered bitterly. "She just told me to shut up and get on with transfiguring my raccoon."

"Wonder what the tasks are going to be... I wonder if I could handle them..." Harry said thoughtfully. _Damnit kid Harry! Stop tempting fate!_

"Well, you'd have to do them in front of a panel of judges," said Fred. "McGonagall says the champions get awarded points according to how well they've done the tasks." Out of nowhere, a sharp pain blossomed in Ron's chest. It really was both wonderful and terrible to be able to see Fred, alive, again.

"Who are the judges?" Harry asked.

Ron, without thinking, blurting out, "the Heads of the schools in the Tournament. Other people, too, but always the Heads."

"How did you know that?" It was Harry, curious. Younger-Ron started berating him for his stupidity, which Ron actually agreed with. _Damnit, ME... Why do I keep doing this to myself..._

Fortunately Hermione spoke up, saying, "It's all in Hogwarts: A History. Which you'd know, if you'd actually read it. Though, really," she added bitterly, "a more accurate title for that book would be A Revised History of Hogwarts - or, A Highly Biased and Selective History of Hogwarts, Which Glosses Over the Nastier Aspects of the School." She looked like she was about to start a rant, which Ron would actually be happy to join into, being extremely irritated with Hogwarts hosting the Tournament and all, but then she said, "Still, it's good to see you reading something on your own for once."

15-year-old Hermione looked so happy Ron hadn't the heart to tell her he STILL hadn't read Hogwarts: A History (not even after 18 years, or if you were starting from first year, 21 years). He'd listened to the audiobooks of some history books written by Luna and her husband Rolf. He'd also read the abridged history book for children that his Hermione wrote, the one that was part of the Hogwarts curriculum now, though he was only able to read parts of her longer original history book. But here, none of those were written yet.

"Well, too bad we still don't know how the champions are chosen," Fred said, sorely. At this point Ron was so tempted to spill the truth about exactly how the champions were chosen, he begged younger-Ron to take over. Younger-Ron accepted, but Ron got the feeling his younger self was a bit put out.

Either way, a few moments later came a sudden whooshing noise from overhead. Without even looking up, Ron knew what it meant: the arrival of the post owls. Fortunately, Harry and Hermione were so occupied by Hedwig's arrival, they didn't notice that an owl stopped for Ron, too. Still, it was too close for comfort. _Merlin, we really need to get a better system - I'm not sure signing off as "Stubby Boardman" and "Penumbra Eadmund" in our letters is going to cut it anymore!_

Younger-Ron quickly shoved the letter into his pocket, and the owl took off. Harry was too busy checking to make sure Fred and George were still talking about the Tournament to notice. Once satisfied, Harry read out his letter, from Sirius, in a whisper to Hermione and younger-Ron.

 _Nice try, Harry._

 _I'm back in the country and well hidden. I want you to keep me posted on everything that's going on at Hogwarts. Don't use Hedwig, keep changing owls, and don't worry about me, just watch out for yourself. Don't forget what I said about your scar._

 _Sirius_

Younger-Ron asked lowly why Harry needed to keep changing owls, and Hermione answered that Hedwig would attract too much attention, being a snowy owl, a non-native bird, that kept returning to Sirius's hiding place and all. Harry rolled up the letter and slipped it inside his robes, like younger-Ron with his, or, Ron's letter.

Younger-Ron boldly decided to ask what Harry thought or felt about the letter. Harry said he wasn't sure whether he felt more or less worried than before, but that Sirius getting back without being caught must mean something, and admitted that Sirius being nearer was reassuring, since now he wouldn't have to wait so long for responses when he wrote to Sirius.

Ron received, _I'm not sure what this means, or how to feel about it._

 _Honestly? I'm also not sure. I guess we'll just have to be glad your Harry at least isn't upset about it._

 _Yeah, I guess..._

As the day went on, there was a definite growing air of anticipation. Hardly anyone was very attentive in lessons, Ron included, though he was less interested in the evening arrival, and more occupied with stressful thoughts about, well, mainly the Tournament. At least Potions was half an hour shorter. When the bell rang early, Harry, younger-Ron, and Hermione, hurried up to Gryffindor Tower, put away their bags and books as instructed, shoved on their cloaks, and rushed back downstairs into the entrance hall, where the House Heads were ordering students into lines.

"Weasley, straighten your hat," McGonagall snapped at Ron. "Miss Patil, take that ridiculous thing out of your hair."

Parvati scowled but removed a large ornamental butterfly from the end of her plait. Privately Ron felt sorry for her. Having a butterfly clip wasn't actually against school policy. But it wasn't worth it to fight over it, so Ron said nothing.

"Follow me, please," McGonagall continued. "First years in front... no pushing..." Filing down the steps, they lined up outside the castle. It was a cold, crisp dusk outside, with a pale, clear moon, and the stars already shining. They were on the lawns overlooking the grounds: a perfect view for when the Durmstrang ship emerged from the water of the lake. The Forbidden Forest was right by them as well: perfect for when the massive Beauxbatons carriage pulled by its flying horses arrived. Younger-Ron was in the fourth row from the front, right next to Harry, who was right next to Hermione.

Younger-Ron, staring down the drive that led to the front gates, said, "How do you reckon they're coming? The train?" Ron had made sure not to tell younger-Ron. Despite the Tournament ending in tragedy, the arrivals had still been spectacular, and younger-Ron deserved to enjoy the surprise. Younger-Ron was annoyed when Ron refused to tell him, but Ron was sure he'd appreciate it later.

"I doubt it," said Hermione.

"How, then? Broomsticks?" That was Harry.

"I don't think so... not from that far away..."

"A Portkey?" Younger-Ron suggested. "Or they could Apparate - maybe you're allowed to do it under seventeen wherever they come from?"

"You can't Apparate inside the Hogwarts grounds, how often do I have to tell you?" said Hermione impatiently.

"I didn't say they'd Apparate inside the Hogwarts grounds," younger-Ron said stubbornly. "Maybe they'd Apparate only just outside Hogwarts grounds. Like, I dunno, Honeydukes. You can Apparate there, I'm sure of it. And then they could come from there to here, on broomsticks or something."

Hermione looked torn between annoyance and grudging respect at that response. Then, as the sky darkened, they continued to wait. After what felt like too long, Dumbledore finally called out from the teachers' back row, "Aha! Unless I am very much mistaken, the delegation from Beauxbatons approaches!"

After much eager shouting, some sixth year spotted it, and pointed at the forest. Ron, even knowing what was coming, felt a thrill of excitement as the huge dark shape, growing larger as it came closer, hurtled across the deep blue sky.

"It's a dragon!" shrieked a first year, to which Dennis Creevey shouted, "Don't be stupid, it's a flying house!" But as the gigantic black shape skimmed over the Forbidden Forest's treetops, the caste windows' lights hit it, and now everyone could see it for what it really was: a magnificently gigantic powder blue carriage, being pulled through the air by a dozen massive, elephant-sized, winged horses. Being Abraxan, the horses were golden in colour, and when the carriage landed dramatically, causing the front three rows of students to draw back, one could see their huge, fiery red eyes. The carriage itself had Beauxbatons' coat of arms on its door: over a blue background, two golden wands were crossed over each other, with each one emitting three stars.

Then the door opened, and a dark-skinned boy in pale blue robes jumped down, bent forward, and after momentarily fumbling, unfolded a set of golden steps, then sprang back respectfully. Ron knew what he was doing: preparing for Madame Olympe Maxime's descent. As the Beauxbatons Head stepped out, a few people gasped. And Ron knew why: she was at least exactly the same size as Hagrid. Privately he thought, _And there's a reason for that..._

Now, in the light coming from the entrance hall, she looked the same as Ron remembered: dressed from head to foot in black satin, with many dazzling opals gleaming at her throat and fingers. She had large black liquid-looking eyes, a rather beaky nose, and a face that was handsome and olive-skinned. She must have long hair, too, it being drawn back in a shining knob at the base of her neck.

 _She's massive!_

Ron internally sighed. _Yeah, I know. Thanks for stating the obvious._ He could feel younger-Ron's irritation for that response, but Ron couldn't bring himself to care.

Dumbledore started to clap, and so the students, following his lead, applauded as well. Madame Maxime smiled graciously, and walked forward to Dumbledore, extending her hand, which Dumbledore kissed.

"My dear Madame Maxime... welcome to Hogwarts."

"Dumbledore. I hope I find you well?" She spoke in a startlingly deep, distinctive voice, with a strong French accent. That last part was expected, since she was the Headmistress of the magical school of France.

"In excellent form, I thank you."

"My pupils," said Madame Maxime, waving a hand carelessly behind her, towards the Beauxbatons students who'd come out of the carriage. There were about a dozen of them, and had to all be 17 or 18. They were wearing robes made of fine silk, with some of them wearing headscarves. None of them were wearing cloaks, and all of them were shivering.

 _Fleur must be among them,_ Ron suddenly realised, and he tried to see if she was visible, but she had to be obscured by Madame Maxime's enormous shadow, because he couldn't spot her. What Ron could see was all the Beauxbatons students staring at Hogwarts with looks of apprehension.

"Has Karkaroff arrived yet?"

"He should be here any moment. Would you like to wait here and greet him or would you prefer to step inside and warm up a trifle?"

"Warm up, I think. But the horses-"

What followed was Dumbledore trying to convince Madame Maxime that Hogwarts' Care of Magical Creatures teacher, Hagrid, could indeed take care of the Beauxbatons horses. Madam Maxime was skeptical at first, but came around, though she made clear that the horses would only drink single-malt whiskey before agreeing.

As Madame Maxime and her students began to go up the stone steps, Seamus leaned over and said, "How big do you reckon Durmstrang's horses are going to be?"

 _Well, considering Durmstrang isn't bringing any horses, we don't really know..._

 _Wait, what? Is that a hint?_

 _Damnit, you weren't supposed to hear that! Well, you're not getting anything else, you'll just have to wait and see like everyone else!_

 _At least I know they're not coming by horse..._

"Well, if they're any bigger than this lot, even Hagrid won't be able to handle them," said Harry. "That's if he hasn't been attacked by his skrewts. Wonder what's up with them?"

"Maybe they've eaten each other already," said younger-Ron hopefully. Ron had made the mistake earlier of mentioning that eventually happened, and now younger-Ron kept hoping the event was right around the corner.

Now that the Beauxbatons party had arrived, everyone was waiting for the Durmstrang one. Most people were gazing hopefully up at the sky, which Ron knew for a fact was the wrong place.

A few minutes later, a loud and oddly eerie sound began drifting towards them from out of the darkness. It was a muffled rumbling and sucking sound, and it sounded like it was moving along the lake...

"The lake! Look at the lake!" yelled Lee Jordan, pointing down towards the smooth black surface of the water - but of course, the surface was no longer smooth at all. Great bubbles were forming, waves now washing over the muddy banks - and then, in the very middle of the lake, a massive whirlpool appeared... A long, black pole began to rise slowly out of the very center of the whirlpool, and then...

"It's a mast!" Harry said. And he was right.

Slowly, strikingly, the Durmstrang ship was rising out of the water, gleaming in the moonlight. It had a skeletal look about it, as thought it was a resurrected shipwreck, and the dim, misty lights shimmering at the portholes completed the ghostly appearance, making it breathtaking, in an eerie, shadowy way.

Finally the ship, entirely emerged from the water, began to glide toward the bank. After hearing the splash of a thrown anchor, and a lowered plank's thud, people on the ship began to disembark. As they reached the light, Ron could see they were wearing the old Durmstrang uniforms, with cloaks of thick, matted fur. Karkaroff was leading them, and he was tall, thin, and silver-haired. Ron remembered him now. Karkaroff had been a Death Eater, but he'd avoided being convicted after the first War by giving up many, many others. When Voldemort came back, instead of rejoining, Karkaroff had fled, but Voldemort had eventually caught him, and... well, Voldemort didn't like it when people betrayed him.

 _If I succeed in preventing Voldemort's resurrection, none of that would happen. Karkaroff would probably continue being Headmaster of Durmstrang._ Ron shuddered internally. Viktor had said Karkaroff was a headmaster who was both terrible and deeply unpopular, intimidating and frightening most of the students, and even having quite a few students removed, just out of ruthlessness. The sooner Viktor Krum took that job, the better off they'd be...

"Dumbledore! How are you, my dear fellow, how are you?" Karkaroff had a fruity voice, the kind that would have been pleasant if it wasn't so... smarmy.

"Blooming, thank you, Professor Karkaroff," Dumbledore replied. Karkaroff was in the light, and Ron could better see Karkaroff's silver furs, and his goatee.

"Dear old Hogwarts, how good it is to be here, how good..." Karkaroff said, looking at the castle. He was smiling, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Viktor, come along, into the warmth... you don't mind, Dumbledore? Viktor has a slight head cold..." Karkaroff beckoned forward a student who had to be, who could only be-

Younger-Ron, catching a glimpse, punched Harry excitedly, and whispered loudly, "Harry - it's _Viktor Krum!"_

* * *

 **...Yeah, that's Chapter 8! I do like the result, but it surprised me a lot when writing it! And in case you're wondering about "[t]he sooner Viktor Krum took that job, the better off they'd be...": yeah, I just have a small headcanon that Viktor Krum eventually becomes Headmaster of Durmstrang, and then in that position improves the school. It's just a minor headcanon, pay it no mind if you want.**

 **As usual: I may not update regularly. Please review if you can, and let me know what you think. If you have any questions, feel free to ask.**


	9. Chapter 9

**Edit: Corrected a mistake I made in Chapter 8 based on newly learned information. Specifically, I ended up finding canonical proof (note: I already knew Pottermore says it's 19 September, 1979, but I don't consider Pottermore canon) that Hermione's birthdate is between September 2nd, 1979, and December 31st, 1979.**

 **To make things simple, I decided her birthday is either in late September, or in early October. I edited Chapter 8 to reflect this.**

 **This** **also means that, in this chapter and moving forward, the Hermione of this current setting/universe will be described as a 15-year-old.**

Younger-Ron could not stop gushing over Viktor. Out loud, and internally.

 _I can't believe it - Viktor KRUM - why didn't you TELL me? I mean, you mentioned some Victor and Flew were Champions or something, but you didn't say - it was THE Viktor Krum!_

Amused by younger-Ron's enthusiasm, Ron sent back, _I wanted you to experience it for the first time just like I did._

 _Well, whatever, I just - this is incredible!_

"I can't believe it!" Younger-Ron said, now out loud. "Krum, Harry, Viktor Krum!"

"For heaven's sake, Ron, he's only a Quidditch player," said 15-year-old Hermione, obviously with no idea yet of what would happen at the Yule Ball.

"Only a Quidditch player?" Younger-Ron said in shock. "Hermione - he's one of the best Seekers in the world! I had no idea he was still at school!"

As they re-entered the entrance hall, Ron noticed several sixth-year girls frantically searching their pockets, and overheard what they were saying.

"Oh I don't believe it, I haven't got a single quill on me-"

"Do you think he'd sign my hat in lipstick?"

"Really," Hermione said haughtily, as they passed the girls, who were now squabbling over the lipstick.

"I'm getting his autograph if I can," said younger-Ron. "You haven't got a quill, have you, Harry?"

"Nope, they're upstairs in my bag," said Harry.

Younger-Ron groaned. "Now I wish I had some lipstick." Then younger-Ron made sure to sit at the side of the Gryffindor table facing the doorway, where Krum and the other Durmstrang students were still gathered, so he could stare at Viktor Krum some more. Oh - oh Merlin. With growing embarrassment, Ron privately thought, _Was I really that obvious? And oblivious about it?_

"It's not that cold," said Hermione, sounding defensive. "Why didn't they bring cloaks?" Younger-Ron turned to see the Beauxbatons students sitting at the Ravenclaw table. They were looking around gloomily, and three of them were still clutching tightly onto their head coverings.

"Well, they are from France. And maybe cloaks aren't part of their uniforms-" Ron began, but then, younger-Ron seized control, with clear overexcitement.

"Over here! Come and sit over here!" younger-Ron hissed. "Over here! Hermione, budge up, make a space, will you -"

"What?"

"Too late," younger-Ron said bitterly. _Well, I could have told you that,_ Ron thought privately, with some bitterness himself, _but you just had to rush in._

Just as before, the Durmstrang students were settling down at the Slytherin table. Ron could see Crabbe and Goyle looking very smug over this... though Malfoy looked rather dull and uninterested. Well, no surprise there. Lately the only things Malfoy cared about were complaining about the skrewts, and working on the solution in the Room of Hidden Things. In that order.

"Yeah, that's right, smarm up to him, Crabbe, Goyle." It was younger-Ron. "I bet Krum can see right through them, though... bet he gets people fawning over him all the time... Where do you reckon they're going to sleep? We could offer Krum a space in our dormitory, Harry... I wouldn't mind giving him my bed, I could kip on a camp bed." 15-year-old Hermione snorted.

Okay, Ron was sure of it now: this was the moment he was going to die of second-hand embarrassment. Or delayed embarrassment? Whichever. Either way, it was completely humiliating.

Sure, Ron had already realised years ago, that he'd carried a torch for Viktor Krum when he was 14... but he never realised he'd been this ridiculous about it! Even worse, Ron was going to have to be audience to the whole thing, the whole teenage crush, and the foolish obliviousness, all over again... Oh, yes, whatever remained of his dignity was definitely dead now.

"They look a lot happier than the Beauxbatons lot," Harry said, saving Ron from his internal agony. Ron wanted to look over to see if he could spot Fleur, but younger-Ron was still in control, and so Ron could only look at the Durmstrang students, who were currently pulling off their heavy furs, revealing the blood-red uniforms underneath. Most of them were looking up at the starry black ceiling of the Great Hall in interest. A few were picking up and examining the golden plates and goblets, and looked impressed.

 _Krum looks so cool, doesn't he? And he's even wearing Gryffindor red..._

 _Um, I don't think it's red for Gryffindor..._

"Why's Filch putting out four chairs, who else is coming?" It was 14-year-old Harry.

"Eh?" said younger-Ron. He was too busy staring avidly at Krum to pay attention to what Harry was saying.

 _Wow, he has such strong eyebrows, don't you think? And he's so tall... even taller than I thought he would be..._

Oh Merlin, this was just mortifying to watch.

When all the students finished entered the Hall and sitting down, the staff entered, with last in line being Dumbledore, Karkaroff, and Madame Maxime. When the Beauxbatons headmistress appeared, her pupils leapt to their feet. A few Hogwarts students laughed, but the Beauxbatons students looked quite unembarrassed, and didn't go back to their seats until Madame Maxime sat down by the left of Dumbledore. Ron wondered what kind of Head Maxime must be, to gain that much respect and obedience from her students. Then again, these were the contenders for the Tournament - Maxime had probably selected the cream of the crop. Dumbledore was still standing, and the Great Hall became silent.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, ghosts and - most particularly - guests," said Dumbledore, beaming at the foreign students. "I have great pleasure in welcoming you all to Hogwarts. I hope and trust that your stay here will be both comfortable and enjoyable."

A Beauxbatons student still holding their head garment gave what was unmistakably a derisive laugh. _Fleur!_ Ron was sure of it now, it was Fleur. Maybe he should wave at her-

"No one's making you stay!" Hermione whispered, bristling at her. Wait, was 15-year-old Hermione going to hold a grudge over this? Ron considered if he should say something, even if he had no idea what he could say, but Dumbledore began speaking again.

"The tournament will be officially opened at the end of the feast. I now invite you all to eat, drink, and make yourselves at home!" Dumbledore finally sat down, upon which Karkaroff immediately leaned towards Dumbledore and started speaking, though Ron could not hear what he was saying. Well, it wasn't that important. Karkaroff was an awful headmaster, but as far as the Tournament went, he was just a red herring.

The Hogwarts house-elves must have been asked to do more for this welcoming feast, because there was a much greater variety of dishes than normal, and several clearly foreign - some of the dishes looked like the stuff Fleur would make sometimes, actually. In fact, he thought he saw her favourite fish stew, with the name Ron still couldn't pronounce, something with a B-

"What's that?" It was Harry. He was pointing at the fish stew.

"Bouillabaisse," said Hermione. "It's French. I had it on holiday summer before last. It's very nice."

Harry looked at it, then went back to what was already on his plate.

After twenty minutes after the start of the feast, Hagrid came into Hall through a door behind the staff table. He slid into his seat at the end and waved at them with a heavily bandaged hand.

"Skrewts doing all right, Hagrid?" Harry called out.

"Thriving," Hagrid called back happily.

"Yeah, I'll just bet they are," younger-Ron said quietly. "Looks like they've finally found a food they like, doesn't it? Hagrid's fingers."

Then a French-accented voice said, "Excuse me, are you wanting the bouillabaisse?" Ron looked up to see... Fleur. She'd taken off the muffler, leaving her waist-length silvery-blond hair visible now.

Ron, without thinking, took over and spoke up. "It's fine, you can have it, Fleur."

Fleur frowned. "How do you know my name?"

Oh. Oh, shit. _What have I done? WHY do I keep doing this?!_ "Uh... lucky guess?" Oh, this was bad. A fourteen-year-old Ron should not know what a seemingly random Beauxbatons girl's name was.

Fortunately, after a moment, Fleur's frown faded, and she simply said, "Have you finished with it?"

"Yeah, go ahead and take it," said Harry, handing it over.

Fleur picked up the dish and carried it carefully off to the Ravenclaw table. As she crossed, many boys' heads turned, and some of them seemed to have turned temporarily speechless. _Oh, please don't let that happen with younger-Ron, it's bad enough I have to watch him moon over Viktor as it is. Watching that with Fleur would just be too much._

 _I do not moon over Viktor! And what's with this Fleur girl, anyways? I mean, sure, she's pretty, but why is she so important - wait, is she that other champion you mentioned? Is she - she's the Beauxbatons champion?_

 _You weren't supposed to hear that... but, yeah, she's the Beauxbatons champion... and... our future sister-in-law._

 _Wait, WHAT?_

 _Yeah, after the Tournament, she ends up working with Bill at Gringotts, and they fall in love and get married in a few years. Where I'm from, they actually have three kids. Oh, and I'm telling you because I didn't think there's any harm in telling this. But you know that you can't say anything on this, right?_

 _Yeah, got it._

 _Yeah, it will happen on its own, so just don't interfere._

"Ron? How did you know her name?" 15-year-old Hermione looked inquisitive, and even... suspicious. Oh no. Merlin's saggy left- oh, he was so fucked.

"I told you, lucky guess," younger-Ron snapped. Well, at least one of them could recover and give a response.

Hermione looked as though that wasn't the end of it, but then she said, "Look at who's just arrived." She pointed at the staff table, where Ludo Bagman and Crouch Sr. were sitting. Bagman was sitting next to Karkaroff, and Crouch Sr. was sitting next to Madame Maxime.

"What are they doing here?" Harry said, sounding surprised.

"They organised the Triwizard Tournament, didn't they?" said Hermione. "I suppose they wanted to be here to see it start." _Thanks a lot, berks. Bagman's just in it for the money, and Crouch Sr was a creep even before he got Imperiused. Real winners you sent us, Ministry._

Once the golden plates were wiped clean, Dumbledore stood up, and began to speak. "The moment has come. The Triwizard Tournament is about to start. I would like to say a few words of explanation before we bring in the casket -"

"The what?" Harry muttered.

"A container," Ron said.

"- just to clarify the procedure that we will be following this year. But first, let me introduce, for those who do not know them, Mr. Bartemius Crouch, Head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, and Mr. Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports." While there was some polite applause when Crouch Sr. was introduced, there was a much louder round of applause for Bagman. Ron refused to applaud for either of them. Bagman was a gambler and a cheat, and Crouch Sr... well, enough said.

"Mr. Bagman and Mr. Crouch have worked tirelessly over the last few months on the arrangements for the Triwizard Tournament, and they will be joining myself, Professor Karkaroff, and Madame Maxime on the panel that will judge the champions' efforts." Now Ron felt disgust at Dumbledore for going along with this mess. Shouldn't he have known better? Shouldn't he have realised, at least based on the Triwizard Tournament's history, that it would definitely end in disaster?

Dumbledore, however, only smiled as he said, "The casket, then, if you please, Mr. Filch." Filch approached carrying the great ancient wooden chest, encrusted with jewels, with the infamous Goblet of Fire inside. Then Dumbledore went on and on, about the tasks, the points and the scoring, and the choosing of the champions. Ron had younger-Ron take control so he could drift off in the back of their head. Finally Dumbledore opened the casket, and took out the large wooden cup full to the brim with blue-white flames.

After placing the goblet carefully on top of the casket, so everyone could see it, Dumbledore continued, speaking about how to submit themselves as champion to the goblet, and how now they had twenty-four hours to do so, until tomorrow night, Halloween, when the goblet would make its decision. He also spoke of the Age Line, and how placing your name in the goblet was a binding, magical contract. Meanwhile, Ron showed great self-restraint by not jumping up onto the table and screaming out all the reasons why this was a terrible setup.

"An Age Line!" Fred Weasley said, his eyes glinting, once Dumbledore's speech had finished, and they were walking into the entrance hall to get to the dormitories. "Well, that should be fooled by an Aging Potion, shouldn't it? And once your name's in that goblet, you're laughing - it can't tell whether you're seventeen or not!"

"It won't work," Ron said. He knew he shouldn't say anything, but he was too tired to care "The Age Line can recognise if you've been Aged up by a Potion. It'll throw you out."

"How do you know that?" George asked.

"Do you really think Dumbledore doesn't know about Aging Potions? He'd definitely put something in there as a precaution for it, I'm sure of it." _Yet apparently Dumbledore doesn't have the sense to put any precautions against older people entering in underage names, or even just in general people entering in other people's names? I mean, would it really be that hard to just add to the Age Line a magical check that detects if the parchment has the person's own name on it? And maybe something to make sure that they're also walking over the Line of their own will, not because they're Imperiused or something? Or at LEAST the name part. This is so basic, I don't see someone as brilliant as Dumbledore could miss it._ Yes, Ron was bitter. Didn't he have a right to be?

"Think what you want," said George shortly. "You'll try and get in, won't you, Harry?"

Harry didn't say anything, and Ron didn't get to see Harry's face, either, because younger-Ron was now looking all throughout the crowd to see where Viktor Krum was. "Where is he?" said younger-Ron. "Dumbledore didn't say where the Durmstrang people are sleeping, did he?"

Younger-Ron's question was answered almost instantly, for they were next to the Slytherin table now, and could overhear Karkaroff.

"Back to the ship, then. Viktor, how are you feeling? Did you eat enough? Should I send for some mulled wine from the kitchens?"

Krum shook his head while pulling his furs back on, but one of the other Durmstrang students said hopefully, "Professor, I would like some wine."

"I wasn't offering it to you, Poliakoff," snapped Karkaroff. Clearly his warmly paternal air was only for Viktor. "I notice you have dribbled food all down the front of your robes again, disgusting boy -" Ron wished he could say something, but then Karkaroff turned and led his students toward the doors. Karkaroff reached the doors at the same moment as Harry, so Harry stopped to let Karkaroff walk through first.

"Thank you," Karkaroff said carelessly, barely glancing at Harry. And then Karkaroff seemed to have realised who he'd passed, for Karkaroff, then turned his head back to Harry and stared in disbelief, then fixed his gaze upon Harry's scar. Behind their headmaster, the Durmstrang students came to a halt too, and stared curiously at Harry. The boy with food down his front, Poliakoff, nudged the girl next to him and pointed openly at Harry's forehead. Ron felt his temperature rising. Did they have to create such a spectacle? Even in this time, even at Durmstrang, it must be common knowledge that Harry Potter attended Hogwarts. Why they couldn't just act like a decent person would, and try to act like they didn't notice anything? It wasn't like they were a bunch of starstruck first years who didn't know any better.

"Yeah, that's Harry Potter," said a familiar, growling voice behind them. Everyone turned to see Moody - well, fake-Moody. He was leaning heavily on his staff, and his magical eye was glaring at Karkaroff.

The colour drained right from Karkaroff's face. A terrible looked of mingled fury and fear came over him. "You!" Karkaroff said, staring at fake-Moody as though unsure he was really seeing him. _Maybe it's because Crouch Jr. would hate Karkaroff for being a "traitor" of a Death Eater... wait, does Karkaroff know that this is Barty Crouch Jr.? Did he know all along, and that's why he was acting so suspicious... my head hurts..._

"Me," said Crouch grimly. "And unless you've got anything to say to Potter, Karkaroff, you might want to move. You're blocking the doorway." Which was true, but Ron doubted that was what Crouch cared about. At any rate, Karkaroff, without another word, swept his students away with him. Crouch didn't stop watching Karkaroff until he was out of sight.

Ron made sure not to show it, but the whole scene left his mind reeling. What had really happened just then? Did Karkaroff know or not? How much did Karkaroff know? And was Barty Crouch Jr. threatening Karkaroff? If so, was he planning on framing Karkaroff, or was he just threatening to have Karkaroff pay for his "treachery" once Voldemort had risen again?

It was all an uncomfortable reminder that, even with his knowledge of the "future", Ron still didn't know everything for this time period. No doubt about it, he needed to be really thorough and careful in his planning and strategising. He especially needed to be very, very careful every time he made a change. With all the sinister plots going on, one wrong move could be deadly.

As expected, Ron wasn't the only one to wake up early the next day. Yes, Ron hated waking up early, but it seemed important today. When he arrived in the entrance hall, he saw most of the Durmstrang students putting their names into the goblet. Younger-Ron got quite excited when he saw Viktor enter his name. Ron reminded younger-Ron that they both knew Viktor would be chosen, but that did nothing to calm younger-Ron down.

 _Oh, well. I guess I need to get used to the reality that now my life involves having to watch a younger version of myself act foolish over his crush on Viktor Krum, and worse yet, refuse to admit it._ Ron groaned, and then went over to the Great Hall, and chowed down on toast with eggs and fried tomatoes, bacon, baked beans, a load of pancakes, a few cinnamon rolls, and chugged down on some juice to finish it all off. After all, now that he had a fourteen-year-old body again, he might as well as take advantage of it. Being forced to pretend to be less than half his age was terrible, but the energy of this youthful body was one of the few perks.

Some time later, after Ron had gone back to the entrance hall, Hermione and Harry arrived. When they asked if anyone put their name in yet, Ron replied that all the Durmstrang students did, but no one from Hogwarts or Beauxbatons yet.

"Bet some of them put it in last night after we'd all gone to bed," said Harry. "I would've if it had been me... wouldn't have wanted everyone watching. What if the goblet just gobbed you right back out again?"

A laugh rang out. Turning, they saw Fred, George, and Lee Jordan hurrying down the staircase. All three of them looked extremely excited.

"Done it," Fred whispered triumphantly. "Just taken it."

"The Aging Potion?" Ron said. Oh, god, he really didn't want to watch what came next.

"One drop each," said George, rubbing his hands together gleefully. "We only need to be a few months older."

"We're going to split the thousand Galleons between the three of us if one of us wins," said Lee, grinning broadly.

"But that can't be an equal split with three people. 1,000 isn't a number that's divisible by 3," Ron said, caught up in thoughts about Rose recently starting to learn multiplication and division.

Fred, George, and Lee stared at him.

"Well it's true," Ron said defensively. "If you try to divide 1,000 by 3, you get a remainder of 1."

"Oh, who cares about one Galleon difference? We'll be rich and famous!" Fred said dismissively. "C'mon then - I'll go first -" Fred said, while pulling a slip of parchment out of his pocket. Ron couldn't read the words, but he could guess it was Fred's name. Fred walked right up to the edge of the line and stood there, rocking on his toes. And then Ron decided: he couldn't watch this. He couldn't watch them try to cross, and watch them fail, and see Fred old and grey, the only time that he got to -

 _I can't watch this. Let's switch._

 _What was with you going on about division? Do you want to make me look like a raving lunatic?_

 _That's kind of - you know what, never mind, that's another issue - can we please just switch?_

Younger-Ron reluctantly agreed. So, as younger-Ron watched the whole incident, maybe even finding it funny, Ron drifted far off into the mindscape. After what could have been a few seconds, or hours, Ron didn't know which, he became submerged into a setting filled with abstract shapes, was somewhere between flying and falling...

 _Wake UP! We're going to breakfast now!_

 _Already- it's been a whole day? Why didn't you call me earlier?!_

 _No, you moron, it's still October 31st, Halloween!_

 _Well, why are we going to a second breakfast? I thought we already... ate... am I remembering wrong?_

 _YOU ate, Harry and Hermione didn't. Now we need to switch, because I don't want all that food taunting me. You should handle that, since you gorged yourself earlier!_

 _Oh, honestly, you're fourteen, you'll be fine. I'm 32, I never get to eat like that anymore, not if I don't want to gain 5 kilograms the next day..._

But Ron gave in and switched. Now that he wasn't so busy stuffing himself, he could notice the Halloween decorations in the Great Hall. A cloud of live bats was fluttering around the ceiling, and there were hundreds of carved pumpkins around every corner. Harry led the way over to Dean and Seamus, who were discussing which Hogwarts students that were of age could be entering.

"There's a rumour going around that Warrington got up early and put his name in," Dean told Harry. "That big bloke from Slytherin who looks like a sloth."

Harry shook his head in disgust. "We can't have a Slytherin champion!"

"And all the Hufflepuffs are talking about Diggory," said Seamus, with contempt. "But I wouldn't have thought he'd have wanted to risk his good looks."

Ron opened his mouth in outrage, ready to give Seamus a good tongue-lashing, when Hermione said suddenly, "Listen!"

People were cheering out in the entrance hall. They turned in their seats to see Angelina Johnson coming into the Hall, grinning in an embarrassed sort of way. Angelina came over to them, sat down, and said, "Well, I've done it! Just put my name in!" Ron tried not to squirm. He knew Angelina wasn't actually in any danger, since she wouldn't be chosen, but it was still difficult to hear.

"Are you seventeen, then?" Harry asked.

"I had my birthday last week." That gave Ron pause. _Would the Age Line accept it if I tried to go in to enter? I'm 32, that's definitely of age. Sure, I'm in a fourteen-year-old body, but if the Age Line's not fooled by an Aging Potion, maybe it would also recognise my real age. Not that I'm going to enter the Tournament- wait, should I enter the Tournament- no, can't go down that road. For one, IF I got selected, that would mean way too much attention._

 _What's wrong with getting attention? It would be nice to get recognised for once._ It was younger-Ron.

 _Ugh, why didn't I make sure to think that privately... well, for starters: did you already forget that this Tournament KILLS people?_

 _...Oh. Right._

"Well, I'm glad someone from Gryffindor's entering," said Hermione. "I really hope you get it, Angelina!"

"Thanks, Hermione," said Angelina, smiling at her.

"Yeah, better you than Pretty-Boy Diggory," said Seamus, causing several Hufflepuffs passing their table to scowl heavily at him. And, oh, that was it. Ron may have been distracted earlier when Angelina came in, but he was definitely speaking out now.

"Stop mocking Cedric, Seamus," Ron said, sharply. "It's all well and good to want a Gryffindor Champion, but you needn't stoop to personal insults."

Seamus looked at Ron with surprise, but Ron found he didn't care. Let the kid think what he wanted. Ron knew he'd said what was right.

 _Is that - did you say that, because, Cedric is going to - what you said about him being... offed?_

Oh god, this younger version of himself was still so young, so green, he couldn't even say the word "death"... How was he was supposed to explain it all to younger-Ron, to this child? Well, he had to try.

Ron steeled himself, and began. _Partly, yes. But it's more than that. Cedric... Cedric was a decent, good, and fair person. He was... the kind of person who tried to call off a Quidditch match he'd won, because he thought his opponent had an unfair disadvantage. The kind of person who never even said one unkind word to Harry, even when he thought Harry did put his name into the Goblet. And yeah, Cedric was the first casualty of the war. The Second War against Voldemort. Dumbledore... Dumbledore said it best, at the end of term, shortly after Cedric died. I couldn't put it better than he did._

 _What did he say?_ Younger-Ron's message seemed at once full of dread and inquisitiveness. Another reminder of how vigilant and responsible Ron needed to be.

Choosing his message carefully, Ron sent, _...I can't remember all of it. But there's one part, at the end of it, that - that's crystal clear. I don't think I can ever forget it. It went:_ ** _"Remember Cedric. Remember, if the time should come when you have to make a choice between what is right and what is easy, remember what happened to a boy who was good, and kind, and brave, because he strayed across the path of Lord Voldemort. Remember Cedric Diggory."_**

For a while there was a sense of silence. Then Ron received, _I - I don't know what to say... But what you said - I mean, what you said Dumbledore said - explains a lot. I'm going to think it over..._

 _Thank you,_ Ron sent.

While watching Harry and Hermione eat their breakfast, Ron wondered what younger-Ron was thinking right now. But his younger self deserved some privacy, so he didn't try to check. Harry did ask why he wasn't eating, and Ron just said he'd eaten before they came. Once they finished, younger-Ron asked to switch, so they did.

As they left the Great Hall, younger-Ron asked, "What are we going to do today, then?"

"We haven't been down to visit Hagrid yet," said Harry.

"Okay," said younger-Ron, "just as long as he doesn't ask us to donate a few fingers to the skrewts. Or they don't burn our fingers off. Or they don't suck our blood. Or they don't lay eggs in us-" Ron sighed internally. Was Malfoy was rubbing off on younger-Ron? What a disturbing thought.

Suddenly great excitement dawned on Hermione's face. Brightly, she said, "I've just realised - we could ask Hagrid to join H.E.L.F. now! You want to come with me upstairs and help me get those patches Dobby made?"

"Uh, why don't you go ahead, we'll wait," Harry said distractedly.

"I'll keep Harry company," Ron said, apologetically. Idly, he wondered if Hagrid would still reject her offer, like before. After all, HELF was quite different from SPEW.

Of course, Hermione hardly waited for their responses. "See you soon!" Hermione shouted, as she ran up the marble staircase.

"Hey, Ron," said Harry, "look, it's your friend..."

The Beauxbatons students were coming through the front doors, Fleur obviously among them. Madame Maxime entered the hall soon after, and organised them into a line. One by one, the Beauxbatons students stepped across the Age Line and dropped their slips of parchment into the blue-white flames. As each parchment entered the fire, the flames turned briefly red and emitted sparks.

"Fleur, right?" Harry said, as Fleur dropped her parchment into the Goblet of Fire. "You should go say hi to her, since you know her so well and all..." He smiled teasingly. Oh, great. Ron knew perfectly well he couldn't just go over there and greet her, but at the same time, it was nice to see 14-year-old Harry in a lighter mood again, so Ron didn't want to just say no...

Ron took a third option, and decided to distract Harry, saying, "What do you think will happen to the ones who aren't chosen? Do you think they'll hang around to watch the tournament, or go back to their school?"

"Dunno... Hang around, I suppose... Madame Maxime's staying to judge, isn't she?"

"Makes sense." Ron already knew they would end up staying to watch the tournament, but now he had an actual question. "But then, who's going to teach the remaining students? I mean, they've got to be in their seventh year, or maybe sixth. Surely they have a bunch of important exams to study for?"

"...Madame Maxime? She's their headmistress, she probably knows her stuff... can't be that bad to teach only a dozen students..."

"You'd be surprised," Ron muttered, remembering how chaotic Rose said her classroom could get, despite it being less than 10 students.

"Well..." Harry had an expression of intense concentration now. "They're all contenders for champion of the Tournament, and champions are supposed to be the best of the school, right? Maybe that means they're the really studious type."

"Maybe..." Was he really finding another reason that the Tournament was a terrible idea? Not that Ron should be surprised, but really? These headmasters were risking the education of some of their best students for a proven-to-be-deadly Tournament, just for the glory? From someone like Karkaroff he supposed that was expected, but even Maxime didn't have any better sense?

Fortunately, before he could think too long on the subject and get even angrier, Hermione reappeared with the box of HELF patches. "I'm back," she announced. "I know Hagrid would use only one, but... well, I just thought it would be better to bring the whole box, don't you?"

"Why not," said Harry, with a tone of good humour.

When they neared Hagrid's cabin right by the Forbidden Forest, Ron spotted the gigantic Beauxbatons carriage, parked 200 yards from Hagrid's front door, with the students climbing back inside it. The Abraxan horses were grazing in a makeshift paddock next to the carriage.

When Harry knocked on Hagrid's door, Fang's barks was their first answer. Their second answer was Hagrid flinging open the door. "About time! Thought you lot had forgotten where I live!"

"We've been really busy, Hag-" Hermione started to say, but then stopped dead. Looking up at Hagrid, the poor girl was apparently lost for words. Ron didn't blame her. Hagrid looked just as awful - no, worse - than he'd remembered.

Hagrid was not only wearing an awful hairy brown suit, with a checked yellow-and-orange tie, but he'd slicked down his hair into two greased bunches. The look did not suit him. For a moment, Hermione goggled at him, then, probably remembering her social skills lessons, she chose not to comment, and simply said, "Erm - where are the skrewts?"

 _Hey, we should switch._

 _Why? So I have to stare at Hagrid's odd hairstyle, too?_

 _No, because Hagrid is your_ friend, _and I'd think you would want to spend time with him. And don't say anything about Hagrid's hair unless you have something helpful to say._

Suitably chastised, younger-Ron grumpily agreed to switch.

"Skrewts're out by the pumpkin patch," Hagrid said happily. "They're getting massive, must be nearly three feet long now. Only trouble is, they've started killing each other."

"Oh no, really? How awful," said Hermione, shooting a glare at younger-Ron, who was likely looking far too excited about finally hearing about the skrewts destroying each other.

"Yeah," said Hagrid sadly. "It's okay, though, I've got them in separate boxes now. Still got about twenty."

"Well, that's lucky," said younger-Ron. Hagrid missed the sarcasm.

They sat down at Hagrid's enormous wooden table and chairs, right by the fire. Soon they were immersed in more discussion of the Triwizard Tournament, with Hagrid seemed just as excited as Hermione and Harry - in other words, the perfect time for Ron to sink out. Especially since he knew for a fact they wouldn't go back for hours...

Ron tried to go deeper in than ever before. Slowly he drifted past the setting with the abstract shapes, and ended up in a setting he'd never been before. It was something like a sea of clouds, with waves flowing and breezing around him... Light and darkness shone in equal parts. As he felt himself slipping still further, images, scenes began to flash around him, disorienting and strangely familiar, all at once.

Lightning illuminating a boy holding a corpse, a broken being with snake-eyes being soaked into potion. A Ministry building exploding as a blue dragon carrying children broke through the ceiling, a tree-lady screaming as she was set on fire, a wand being forced into a brown hand. An Asian woman holding hands with a scarred blond man while walking in a garden filled with children. A shattering hourglass, a sign saying something about "Statute," silvery-blond hair shining in the dark. A boy in green kissing a girl in red. A voice saying "You Must Beware," a blond girl with radish earrings announcing something important, he knew it was important, but what was it, he couldn't hear anything -

An echoing, sonorous voice boomed out: "Learn to Trust, or Perish."

A single drop of dew slipped from a blade of grass, falling into serene waters, and the ensuing ripples started small but grew bigger, effects stretching farther and wider...

Ron emerged from the currents, eyes wide open and gasping for breath. Looking around at his surroundings, Ron could see they were just outside Hagrid's cabin now. It was rather dark outside.

"Ron, what's wrong?" It was 15-year-old Hermione.

 _Hey, what was that? I was perfectly fine watching Krum, and you just have to shove in and take over?_

 _I didn't intend to - something... happened... look I'll explain later, okay?_

 _Fine, but I'm taking over again now._

Ron didn't disagree, so younger-Ron took over, and fumbled out a statement about being distracted by the sight of Krum walking over to the castle, which they accepted. While they all walked over the castle, younger-Ron was occupied with staring at Viktor Krum, and Ron spent the time pouring over the... visions, he was fairly sure they were visions, trying to memorise every detail, so he could examine them properly later.

When they arrived in the Great Hall, Ron asked younger-Ron for a recap on what happened while he was out. Younger-Ron, though peeved at being asked to pause his all-important task of mooning over Viktor Krum, quickly told Ron about how Hagrid apparently fancied Madam Maxime, and how Hagrid refused to join HELF, which Hermione was not happy about.

As they sat down, Fred said, "Hope it's Angelina."

Hermione breathlessly replied, "So do I! Well, we'll soon know." _Great, now I get to feel guilty_ Ron had already thought in detail, even explained to younger-Ron, why they couldn't do anything to stop Harry's selection, or warn him, but...it still felt wrong.

The Halloween feast seemed to take much longer than usual. Probably because Ron was internally in agony over the inevitable announcement about Harry. Ron tried to spend the time productively by scouring over the visions, but just couldn't focus. Younger-Ron was still in control, but even his younger self didn't seem that eager to eat. Many other students had impatient looks and were fidgeting as well, though they were certainly just wondering over three champions.

At long last, the golden plates returned to their original spotless state. A clamour rose up within the Hall, but died away almost instantly when Dumbledore got to his feet. Karkaroff and Maxime looked tense, but Bagman was beaming and randomly winking, and Crouch Sr looked uninterested, almost bored. Well, of course he did, Crouch Sr's mind was dulled from being under the Imperius Curse, wasn't it?

"Well, the goblet is almost ready to make its decision. I estimate that it requires one more minute. Now, when the champions' names are called, I would ask them please to come up to the top of the Hall, walk along the staff table, and go through into the next chamber-" he pointed to the door behind the staff table- "where they will be receiving their first instructions."

Dumbledore took out his wand, and extinguished all the candles except those inside the pumpkins, leaving the Great Hall in semidarkness, and the Goblet of Fire shining most brightly of all. Everyone was watching, waiting... Even both Rons, despite knowing the results, felt the tension.

The flames turned red again. Ron knew what came next. Sparks began to fly. A tongue of flame shot into the air, and a charred piece of parchment fluttered out of it. Everyone gasped. Dumbledore caught the paper, and, reading it by the light of the blue-white flames, said, "The champion for Durmstrang will be Viktor Krum."

A storm of applause and cheering swept the Hall, younger-Ron included in it. Viktor Krum rose from the Slytherin table, and walked through the door behind the staff table, to the next chamber. Karkaroff called out, loud enough to be heard over the applause, "Bravo, Viktor! Knew you had it in you!"

 _Can we switch now?_

 _Why, because the only Champion you care about is Viktor Krum..._

 _Shut UP okay I do NOT- I don't-_

Younger-Ron wasn't even able to finish, he was that flustered. Ron, taking pity on him, sent, _Fine, whatever, I'll switch..._

Seconds after the clapping for Viktor died down, the flames turned red again, and the second piece of parchment was propelled out by the flames. _I wonder if the Goblet of Fire has a sense of dramatic timing? It waited until the clapping finished, after all._

"The champion for Beauxbatons is Fleur Delacour!"

As Fleur stood up, Ron clapped politely. He immediately regretted it when, as she walked to the staff table, Harry shouted, "It's her, Ron, your friend, right?" Bloody hell, was kid Harry really not going to let that slip-up go? He could only hope no one else would think anything of Harry's comment...

"Oh look, they're all disappointed," Hermione said, nodding towards the other Beauxbatons students. Two had actually burst into tears and sobbing with their heads in their arms. Ron was grateful for the distraction, then guiltily wondered if he should say something comforting. But then, a strange Hogwarts boy trying to talk to them would probably make them feel more embarrassed. Never mind.

As Fleur went into the next chamber, Ron felt his anxiety grow. Because he knew what was coming next...

"The Hogwarts champion is Cedric Diggory!" The uproar from Hufflepuff Table next to them was massive. Every single Hufflepuff had jumped to their feet, screaming and stamping. And, oh god, the sight of Cedric, he was still so alive and healthy and well and young - forever young - he was grinning broadly, just a boy, with no idea of what lay ahead - the applause would not stop -

His face was wet. He'd been crying, Ron realised with a start. He rubbed his face quickly, trying to wipe it all away. It wouldn't do to let anyone else see such tears.

The applause for Cedric continued for so long, it was a while before Dumbledore could speak out again. _Well, that's Hufflepuff for you: loyal and united to the end._

"Excellent! Well, we now have our three champions." _And I now feel positively ill_ I am sure I can count upon all of you, including the remaining students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, to give your champions every ounce of support you can muster. By cheering your champion on, you will contribute in a very real-" But then Dumbledore stopped speaking. The fire in the goblet had just turned red again.

Ron wanted to scream. He wanted to turn back time or freeze it. Hell, he wanted to Incendio the Goblet right now. But he could do nothing to stop what was already set in motion, nothing to stop what came next. Not the sparks beginning to fly out of the goblet. Not a long flame shooting out of it. Not the long flame spitting out the fourth, final, piece of parchment.

And definitely not Dumbledore holding out the slip of parchment in disbelief, and reading out: "Harry Potter."

Knowing what was going to happen didn't make it easier. Ron felt devastated.

Harry himself looked numb. "I didn't put my name in," Harry said blankly. "You know I didn't."

"I believe you," Ron said, partly because he did believe him, knowing about Crouch's plot and all, but partly because of guilt. Guilt for not preparing this child version of Harry for this moment at all, or guilt for not supporting Harry the first time? He didn't know. _Stop it, stop wallowing, will you,_ Ron scolded himself. _This isn't about you right now. Focus on kid Harry._

"Harry Potter!" Dumbledore called. "Harry! Up here, if you please!"

"Go on," 15-year-old Hermione whispered, giving a slight push. Harry ended up tripping over his robes, causing Ron to feel even more sorry for him.

And then... oh. Oh, Ron had not thought about the solitary walk.

Seeing him right there, looking so vulnerable, so alone - it must be because Ron was older now, but Harry was looking so terribly, terribly young...

 _He's just a boy! He's just a CHILD!_

That was the final breaking point. Ron couldn't stand it anymore. He sent out, fiercely, _I have to come clean now. As soon as Harry returns, and we're in private, just us? I'm going to spill._

 _I agree. In fact... I think we should have told him sooner. I know you said you didn't want a fight or something, but if we were going to tell him eventually anyway, why didn't we just do it in the beginning?_

 _...You might be right. Either way, we should plan how we're going to do it - telling him - now._

Younger-Ron agreed. Which was good, because having another task to focus on, helped Ron in shoving down his rage when Dumbledore sent Harry into the next chamber without the slightest sign of reassurance or warmth.

Everyone was dismissed not long after Harry was sent away. The Beauxbatons students were led away by Maxime and Durmstrang students by Karkaroff, of course, and Dumbledore told the Hogwarts students to back to their common rooms or dormitories.

Ron went along at first, but in the chaos and the large crowds, he slipped away, and hurried off to... well, the seventh floor. Specifically, the left corridor of the seventh floor. Going around it three times, he and younger-Ron thought out as loudly as they could, "We need a place that helps us break difficult news to a friend going through a hard time." A door opened, and Ron stepped in to find a room with... pamphlets about social skills, handling grief, addiction, and other emotional issues. It also had some pamphlets on communication in healthy relationships. All had many pictures. A decent start, but Ron needed more.

 _I need some drawing paper. And pencils, coloured pencils, and markers, and crayons,_ Ron thought clearly. Printer paper, lined paper, and poster paper materialised, as did some neat seats of multicoloured pencils, markers, and crayons. Now Ron was ready to work. And so was younger-Ron.

Several minutes later, after much discussion they'd decided they were finished. Just one more thing...

 _I need some basilisk venom,_ _in a safe container,_ Ron thought, trying to see if the Room could give it to him.

A transparent bottle with a dark liquid inside appeared in Ron's hand. Perfect. Now he was all set for what he was going to do next - no, wait, just in case something went wrong-

 _I need some bottled phoenix tears,_ Ron thought. A bottle with a clear liquid appeared. Now satisfied, Ron tucked the bottles into separate pockets, then stepped out of the Room, walked away from the left corridor... then walked back, and, walking around three times, chanted under his breath, "I need to get to the Room of Hidden Things."

When Ron was in, he didn't waste any time. He searched briskly for that blasted tiara, and when he found it, he ignored any effects it tried to throw out. He just placed the diadem on a nearby dirty handkerchief, pulled out the bottle holding the basilisk venom, and let a single drop fall onto the crown. The venom made a hissing noise, and the diadem began wailing. For good measure, Ron dumped all the venom onto the wretched horcrux, dumped the whole bottle of phoenix tears right after in case the poison seeped through to the floor, and then cast Confringo onto the handkerchief. You could never be too careful with destroying Horcruxes, or with basilisk venom.

Ron smiled down at the remains, merely ashes leftover from the Confringo. He might not be able to do anything to stop 14-year-old Harry from being dragged into the Tournament, but he could damn well destroy at least one fucking horcrux at Hogwarts. And that was... two horcruxes down, so four left to destroy, with a secret last one (Harry) to protect... And Crouch and Voldemort and their other allies had no idea what was coming for them, who exactly was up against them...

Oh, yeah, they were totally and utterly _fucked_.

...Several minutes later, after managing to squeeze through the chaos in the common room to get to the dormitories, Ron began reflecting, and he'd come to a conclusion. Destroying a horcrux? Easy, no sweat. Waiting in the empty dormitory for 14-year-old Harry to come? Pure torture.

Ron and younger-Ron tried to occupy themselves by going over the notes, but both Rons were so tense and full of nerves they couldn't focus enough to read anything. They sat on the bed, fidgeting so hard they ended up accidentally shaking off the bed's blanket, causing it to fall onto the floor. They paced back and forth, trying to get rid of the nervous energy, but their thoughts were swirling around too fast and their anxiety was too strong, to really get anything out of the walking. They tried switching back and forth, sliding like waves coming in and out, and the process became faster and faster, smooth as water sliding down a plane. That was the only thing that came even close to relief.

Finally, after what felt like hours, Harry dashed into their dormitory and slammed the door. He was wearing an odd looking cape - looking closer, Ron realised it was a Gryffindor banner.

"Where've you been?" Harry said. He sounded desperate.

"Erm - waiting for you... since you were sent into that chamber while we got sent to the dorms," younger-Ron said. They'd decided younger-Ron should be the one to start.

"Listen, I didn't put my name in the goblet. Someone else must've done it."

"I know. I know a lot of people don't believe you, but I do. I know you didn't put your name in... because I know who did."

 **Yes, I headcanon that teenage Ron, specifically 14-year-old Ron, had a crush on Viktor Krum. Evidence doesn't lie: almost everything younger-Ron says out loud about Krum in this chapter is directly lifted from the actual text of Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. And, yes, "staring avidly at Krum" is exact text too :)**

 **For the record, I don't think Karkaroff knew, at least not at that point, that Professor Moody was really Barty Crouch Jr. However, I do think that, with his future knowledge, [adult] Ron rewatching this scene/confrontation, would doubt and wonder.**

 **That portion of Dumbledore's speech that Ron quotes, is directly from the text of _Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire_. Specifically, it's from the speech Dumbledore gave at the end of term about facing the hard truth about Cedric's death.**

 **Harry will always be Ron's favorite horcrux. Definitely not considered expendable, not by Ron.**

 **As always: I may not update regularly. Please review if you can, and let me know what you think. If you have any questions, feel free to ask.**


	10. Chapter 10

"I know. I know a lot of people don't believe you, but I do. I know you didn't put your name in... because I know who did." There. It was finally out. Now they could only wait for Harry's reaction.

Very quietly, Harry said, "What? How do you - I mean, who did it?"

Younger-Ron responded firmly, "Barty Crouch Jr, who's the son of Mr. Crouch, one of the Tournament Judges. Crouch Jr. is a Death Eater. He was sentenced to Azkaban, but his parents secretly helped sneak him out. Recently Crouch Jr. broke free of the Imperius Curse his father kept him under for years, and now he's out on the loose. He's extremely dangerous. Crouch Jr. is the one who fired the Dark Mark at the World Cup. He put your name into the Goblet." _Oh I'm so glad all that preparation paid off._

Harry, looking even more overwhelmed, said, "Ron- that's - how do you know all this?"

Younger-Ron took a deep breath, and let out, "Because my older self from the future told me."

For a moment, Harry stared at him. Then he said coldly, "You know, Ron, if you don't believe that I didn't put my name in, you could just say so like everyone else." Harry started to get up and leave, and both Rons felt a jolt of panic and horror.

"Harry, WAIT!"

Harry turned.

"I'm serious, Harry. I'm not having you on, I swear Harry, I swear on my _life._ Look, I know it sounds insane - but then so does Quirrel having Voldemort on the back of his head, and that still happened, didn't it? Look - Crouch Jr. wants you _killed_ _,_ okay, he thinks killing you off will please Voldemort or something. You're in horrible danger. You've got to believe me, Harry, you've just - got to."

To their relief, Harry sat back down. Looking thoughtful, he slowly said, "...Moody did say he thought it was a plot to have me killed. He said a very powerful wizard must have Confounded the Goblet to make it think there were four schools, and entered my name in under a fourth school, to make sure it would select me, so I could..." Harry swallowed, "end up dying in the Tournament."

 _Oh, god, not fake-Moody. Say something, will you?_ Younger-Ron quickly replied, "Harry, I can't explain yet, but - be careful around Moody, will you? Don't trust him."

"Why - what's wrong with him?"

"Harry, I swear I'll explain later, but first, I _need_ to know: do you believe me?"

"I-" Harry paused, terrifying both Rons, but then Harry continued, "...I do."

"Really?" younger-Ron gasped. Running his right hand through his hair, he said, "Oh thank Merlin, I was starting to think we'd end up in a stupid fight, too, like he said."

"Like he said? Did you mean... your older self?"

"Err..." _What should I say?_

 _Tell him the truth,_ Ron replied. _I'm not proud of it, but he needs to know. He deserves to know._

"Well... when it happened with him - my older self from the future, I mean - he... didn't believe it, when his Harry, said the thing about not putting the name into the Goblet. Actually, he got jealous..." Younger-Ron stared down at the floor. Harry said nothing.

"He and his Harry did make up later, but he feels bad about not believing his Harry from the start. That's why he told me about it. He doesn't want all the same bad things to happen like it did for him, for... us. Harry, we don't agree on everything, but I know for sure, he really does want to help. He's on our side."

"I-" Harry looked torn. "Look, mate, I believe you about - this - older self business. It's insane, but like you said, weirder things happen, and I trust _you_ but... I don't know if I trust him, this mysterious older self. I mean, for starters, how long has he been around you? Why is he just a voice?" And wow, okay, objectively, Ron could see why this Harry wouldn't trust him, but emotionally? It was a gut punch.

"He's been stuck in my head since August. And he has no idea how he got here, either. He... he wants to get back to his home, but - he also wants to help you, Harry."

"Since August? And you're only telling me now?!"

"I was planning on telling you, Harry, but I needed to find the right time! I mean, you didn't even believe me at first - and who knows what Hermione's going to say, but I bet she wouldn't believe it as quickly as you did!"

Harry deflated. "You've got a point... When are you going to tell Hermione, anyway?"

"Tomorrow, I guess... She's probably in her dorm by now, and we can't go into the girls' dorms... Do you think it would be a good idea to tell her in the morning?"

"As long as we make sure no one eavesdrops or anything... You really think she won't believe you?"

Younger-Ron shrugged. "I guess we'll find out tomorrow, won't we?"

"Yeah... can I ask you something?"

"What is it?"

"Is it possible... is there any way I could talk to him? Your older self?"

"There is..." Younger-Ron paused, probably thinking carefully for what to say next. "If I let him, we can switch back and forth, for who has control. Whoever isn't in control, they're still there, in the mind, but they're not controlling the body - just an observer."

"Does that mean he's overhearing everything right now?"

"Er, yeah..."

"Can he hear everything you think, too?"

"Not exactly... we can think thoughts privately, and we can _send out_ thoughts, like messages. Sending out thoughts, that's how we have mental conversations. If I'm making sure to think my thoughts privately, he won't hear it, and same with him. But if you're not making sure, the other person can overhear. I've overheard his thoughts a few times, actually."

"What did he say?"

"Well, once it was some weird thing about wanting to destroy some Dark artifacts Voldemort used, and then another time I overheard him talking about Viktor Krum and Fleur being Tournament Champions, before they were picked?" _Oh, thank god he hardly remembers anything I said about Horcruxes,_ Ron thought privately.

"Is that how you knew her name? Because - your older self told you?"

"Something like that, yeah. Anything else?"

"Is there anything I should know... for the Tournament? Or... this Barty Crouch Jr. person?"

 _...Tell him I'll talk to him about it tomorrow._

"My older self said he'll talk to you about it tomorrow... which is also when we're telling Hermione."

"Right." An awkward silence followed. Just as Ron was wondering if he should suggest to younger-Ron something to say, Harry spoke up.

"Ron? Forgot to say before, so- thanks, for believing me, about the Goblet."

"Thanks for believing me about this older self stuff."

They went to bed soon after that. Eventually Harry fell asleep, and even younger-Ron sank out. But Ron stayed wide awake. Aside from the slight disturbance when Neville, Seamus, and Dean came in, the quiet stillness of night was perfect for his task at hand.

At first Ron was too distracted by thoughts on 14-year-old Harry finally knowing the truth (okay, part of the truth), and also thoughts on needing to tell 15-year-old Hermione the next morning, to focus on his mission. But finally, after some _hours_ , he was able to push those thoughts aside, and start his task: delving back into his visions. Soothsaying, future sight, precognition, whatever you wanted to call it - recollection was key for these things. Prophecy usually only came when someone else was witness, but with visions, it was you who needed to remember it all.

Ron reached into one of his pockets and pulled out the sketchbook the Room of Requirement had given him. Using the moonlight (it really was fortunate the moon had a strong presence tonight), he began to draw. He was still no master artist, but he'd practiced this before, and Ron felt proud to see that the sketches at least decently captured the images and scenes he'd seen.

Besides, with capturing visions on paper, it was less about the exact details, and more about the feelings and the impressions they gave you. At least that was Ron's experience. Some diviners said they found sound the most important, while others said specific symbolism was the most important. Back when he was just a newly realised Seer, still green to it all, all the differing statements were so confusing. By now Ron was pretty sure it was just that different people experienced things differently, and soothsaying was no exception.

Finished for now, Ron put the sketchbook into his school trunk, and pulled up his blankets. Even this teenage body needed some rest. Ron started counting numbers, and fell asleep.

They woke up to bright sunlight beams coming from the windows.

 _What time's it- oh, shit. Oh, shit we OVERSLEPT!_

Ron hurriedly changed his clothes, and forced himself to brush his teeth, which he hated every second of, then ran down the spiral staircase, through the common room, through the entrance hall, and finally stopped in the Great Hall. Oh, great, kid Harry and Hermione were nowhere to be seen. They must have wandered off after getting tired of waiting for Ron to come. He could only hope Harry didn't say anything yet. Well, he was here, he might at well sit down and let younger-Ron eat while they figured out what to do next.

 _Ugh, another opportunity missed... well, at least this teenage body is amazing. I mean, I can run down three flights of stairs and more without even needing to stop to catch my breath! I need to make use of that more, honestly._

 _Merlin's pants, are you ancient?_

 _Okay, first of all, it's rude to eavesdrop. Secondly, I already told you, I'm NOT old: I'm only 32._

 _If you're going to shout out your thoughts, I'm going to hear them. Anyways, you keep talking about things like back pain, weird pains, and not being able to eat-_

 _Kid, that's just what adulthood is like. Unless you're maybe a professional athlete, your body sucks._

 _Can you at least tell me when I stop getting acne?_

 _Haha that's cute... the answer is never._

 _I NEVER STOP GETTING ACNE?!_

 _Calm down, will you? The acne never truly goes away, but I get it less often... as long as I'm getting enough sleep, washing my face, exercising, and eating healthy. It's perfectly normal, you know. Plenty of adults still get the occasional pimple._

 _Oh, god, that all sounds horrible... isn't there ANYTHING good about adulthood?_

 _Well, for me: I get to make my own choices more. I have my own finances. But more importantly... I'm a lot more aware of who I am, and a lot more accepting of myself, than I used to be. Speaking of which: it's okay to be insecure, you know. But you have to let people in. I can speak from experience: keeping it all in, trying to suppress insecurities and wants, does not work. It just turns into jealousy and resentment, and it keeps building up until something happens that sets it off, and then that just gets ugly._

 _I'm not... insecure..._

 _Really? You're going to try to lie to your future self, who has literally gone through the exact same things you have - well, up until this August - and so knows you better than you know yourself? Honestly, younger-Me, now I just feel insulted._

 _FINE, so MAYBE I'm a LITTLE insecure! But that doesn't mean I like talking about it! Or even thinking about it! I hate feeling like the least important, and I'm sure as hell not telling that to my friends!_

 _...Okay, if you're not ready to talk to others about it_ yet, _that's fine. Take your time if you're not there yet. But you have to be able to face yourself. At the very least, be honest with yourself._

 _Does that mean having to tell YOU everything?_

 _Of course not. I try to respect what privacy you can make. But you have to admit the truth to yourself, and when you do talk to me, I don't want you to lie to me, either. I haven't lied to you. I haven't told you everything either, especially since some things aren't safe for you to know, but everything I've told you is all the truth. I expect the same from you._

 _Ugh, fine... it's just... I know that you know what you're talking about, since you kind of WERE me... but it's still so annoying, getting lectured..._

 _I get it. It's not like either of us signed up for this situation. Sometimes I get frustrated dealing with you too. But we're both trying. And I also remind myself, you're only 14, you haven't experienced as much as I have, so I have to be patient, so... sorry if I've been too harsh._

 _...Thanks ...uh, shouldn't we find Harry and Hermione now?_

 _Don't think I missed that deflection... but sure, we can go look for them now. Any ideas where to start?_

After checking the entrance hall, the lawns by the lake, the Owlery, and the common room, they still weren't able to find either Harry or Hermione. Ron even went to Hagrid's hut, but Hagrid said they hadn't come all day. Then younger-Ron suggested they check the library, making Ron feel like an idiot for not checking the library in the first place.

Younger-Ron found Harry and Hermione in the library. When Hermione saw him, she said, "About time! Harry says you had something important to tell me, but refused to tell me what it was - said you had to say it in person. After we went to the Owlery, we came here, and we've been sitting around here waiting for you since!"

"Sorry," younger-Ron said, rubbing his neck nervously. "I overslept, and then I couldn't find you or Harry anywhere."

"It's all right," Hermione huffed. "But can you tell us this big secret now?"

After they quickly switched so Ron could cast a Muffliato, younger-Ron said, "Just one thing: you believe that Harry didn't put his name in the Goblet, right?"

"Of course I do. I knew Harry hadn't entered himself - we saw his face when Dumbledore read out Harry's name! The question is, who did put in? Because Moody is right, there's no way it was a student, they wouldn't be able to fool the Goblet, or get past the Age Line -"

"That's the thing: I know who did it," younger-Ron interrupted.

Hermione gaped at younger-Ron, then at Harry. Harry just shrugged sheepishly and said, "That's kind of how he started with me last night, too."

"You knew-"

"Harry only knew since last night," younger-Ron cut in. "I would have told you then, too, but you're not in the boys' dormitory, and boys can't go into the girls' dormitory, so..." He trailed off apologetically.

Hermione managed to choke out, "...Who?"

"Barty Crouch Junior, a Death Eater. His parents secretly broke him out of Azkaban years ago. Recently he broke free of an Imperius Curse cast by his father, Barty Crouch Sr. - and he was the one who fired off the Dark Mark at the Quidditch Cup. I don't know when he did it or exactly how, but he Confounded the Goblet into thinking there were four schools, and submitted Harry's name under a fourth school. He thinks setting Harry up into the Tournament will please... You-Know-Who. I think he's also put Crouch Sr. under the Imperius Curse by now. And the reason I know all this is..."

Younger-Ron took a deep breath, then said, "The morning of the 14th of August, I woke up to find I wasn't the only mind in my body. There was another person there: an older version of me, from an alternate universe."

Total silence. Hermione stared in shock for several seconds, before spluttering out, "But - that's impossible - everyone knows - everyone knows that alternate universes are only a theory! No one's ever travelled from another universe before! It's not - it's never been done before!"

Younger-Ron smiled weakly. "There's a first time for everything?"

Hermione crossed her arms and said, "Prove it."

"Prove it?" younger-Ron cried out. "How am I supposed to prove it?"

"I'm sure you'll be able to think of something."

 _What am I supposed to say?! Really, how am I supposed to prove it? If you tell something from the future, it hasn't happened yet, so that won't help in convincing her!_

 _Right, and I'm from another universe, and we've already made some changes, so some things won't happen the same way, or maybe not at all... ugh, this is harder than I thought it would be... how about... no... Oh, I've got it! Tell her I told you that I know her middle name originally was going to be Jane, but then her parents decided it was too plain, so they made it Jean instead._

"Just now, he told me he knows your middle name was going to be Jane, but your parents thought it was too plain, and decided on Jean instead."

"That's... right," 15-year-old Hermione said, stunned. "How - how could you know that?"

Younger-Ron shrugged self-consciously. "Like I said - older-Me, from the future, told me just now."

"Well, I guess that is proof... It's just, this is really... unprecedented!" She seemed flustered. "For starters, how did this even happen in the first place?! What's his universe like? When is he planning on going back?"

Harry cleared his throat. "Er, that's all interesting, but now we're all on the same page... last night, Ron said he would answer my questions tomorrow, so..."

"Oh - of course, Harry, this business with Barty Crouch Jr. and the tournament is very serious! I'm sorry, I don't know what I was thinking, you go right ahead, Harry."

"Wait," younger-Ron said. "Before we start - Harry, yesterday you asked if there was a way to talk with older-Me, right? So... you could talk to him right now. You could ask him your questions."

"...I guess it would be good to ask the person from the future," Harry said.

 _Wait, what are you doing?!, Ron sent out. This wasn't part of the plan!_

 _The sooner I introduce you to Harry and Hermione, the better off we'll be! They already know you exist now, why shouldn't you talk to them?_

 _Fine! We'll switch._

They'd switched plenty of times, but this time felt different, probably because all eyes were on them. As soon as Ron had feeling in the fingertips, he looked up to meet 14-year-old Harry's gaze.

"Hello, Harry. It's nice to finally meet you properly."

Young Harry was looking at him far more evenly than he'd expected. "You're the Ron from the future."

"Yes. And if you're wondering how far in the future: When I went to bed for the last time before waking up... here, it was the 13th of August, 2012."

"Well you definitely don't look your age."

"No kidding."

Harry's first question was exactly what Ron was expecting. "What should I know, for the tournament?"

"Nothing for now. The first two tasks are fine... relatively speaking. It's only at the third task, when things turn sour. Oh, and like I said: don't trust Moody."

Harry looked at him with suspicion. "You said that before. Why shouldn't I trust him?"

Ron had thought about how to answer this question earlier, when they'd been preparing to break the news, but it was still a tricky one. He couldn't reveal too much, too fast. Knowing Harry, that could lead to something like Harry deciding to confront fake-Moody all by himself. And that would be disastrous.

Ron finally settled on, "Because he's not all that he appears to be."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Just be cautious around him, okay? Do not trust him or what he says, but don't show it to him. Also, tell us of any suspicious activity from him. I can't tell you much more than that. The future is a tricky thing," Ron added, hoping that would convince him.

"Still can't believe you waited this long to reveal yourself. Can't wait to see what Dumbledore has to say about all this..."

Oh, Merlin, Ron had not been looking forward to this part. But, it had to be done, had to be answered. "...About that: we can't tell Dumbledore."

Harry stared incredulously. "Why not?"

Ron, remembering his planned-out answers carefully, replied, "...Because Dumbledore would want to know everything. And- I can't do that. I can't tell him everything. And he wouldn't be able to accept that. With the best of intentions, but still." A nice, neat answer that hid his real turmoil of emotions. Even now, he wasn't sure how to feel about - no, best not to think about that now.

"But-" Harry looked unsatisfied.

"Please, Harry," Ron said, trying to be firm but gentle. "You don't have to agree, but can you at least do this for - us?"

"Us? What do you mean?"

"Well, you didn't think your best friend wasn't listening, did you? He's right here," Ron tapped their head, "paying attention to all of this."

"And... he agrees? About not telling Dumbledore?"

"Yes. I won't lie, he's not happy about it, but he understands the need for it, and so he does agree."

Harry looked at him for a moment, trying to gauge Ron's honesty, then said, "Well, you're from the future, so I suppose you know what you're talking about."

"Do you have any other questions?" Ron said, hoping to get the main part over with.

"Yeah, but... they're silly, it doesn't matter," Harry mumbled.

Oh, why did he have to put himself down so much? "Harry," Ron said, trying to be reassuring, "I promise I won't think it's silly, whatever you have to ask."

Harry looked at him strangely. "Wow, you really are a different Ron," he said, and Ron was just about to ask what exactly was that supposed to mean, when Harry let it all out in a rush: "Do you two sometimes fight for control?" "Have your tastes changed in the next few years?" "Have you learned how to use the telephone properly?" "Do you still hate spiders?"

He spoke so quickly Ron could barely hear each question.

"Okay, one question at a time... Usually we don't fight for control, but if I'm being honest, sometimes we bicker about switching. We do try to work together as a team, though. I don't think I've changed that much in what I like, but I've experienced new food, so I think my tastes have grown over the past years? Yes, I have finally learned how to use the telephone properly, I actually have my own mobile now." Ron paused, then said, "And yes, I still hate spiders, though I've also learnt the hard way, that there are things in this world much, much worse than spiders."

Harry nodded, taking it in, and just when Ron thought that the hardest part was over - it happened.

Trying too hard to be casual, Harry said, "Oh, and do Sirius and I ever get to live together?"

The question was like a gut punch - no, like a punch to the heart. Ron had never been as close to Sirius as Harry, but a reminder was still devastating. Ron felt like he couldn't breathe.

 _Even after all this time- no, can't think like that, you've been doing well, she said so, it's just because you didn't expect it, you weren't prepared for it- calm down, will you - oh, god, what do I even SAY to kid Harry over here-_

But it turned out he didn't need to say anything at all. Harry took in Ron's expression, and simply said, "...Oh." He looked completely defeated.

Ron, wanting to cheer him up, almost said that maybe they could change things so it wouldn't happen this time... and then bit his tongue. He absolutely couldn't speak on the topic unless he actually had a proper strategy, that he had very strong reason to think would work, and even then maybe not. He couldn't dare risk giving Harry false hope. That would just be too cruel.

After that, the meeting had a more sombre tone. Hermione anxiously asked some questions about class choices, but Ron just told her that she would make good decisions for that on her own, and didn't need to worry. When Harry grimly asked what he should be prepared for, for the entire year, Ron just said there was nothing immediate, and he needed some more time to give advice. Hermione also asked if there anything she should do differently, so Ron said, "...Make sure not to permanently disfigure someone's face, even if they did do something wrong." When Hermione looked confused at that, Ron simply added, "Hopefully it won't come up anyways, that's just in case."

Towards the end of the meeting, Ron said, "You mentioned you went to the Owlery before coming here? Why?"

Harry looked uncomfortable. "It's just that, Hermione said I should... send Sirius a letter, about being a Triwizard Champion... and he said not to use Hedwig before, so..."

Feeling guilty for making Sirius a difficult topic now, Ron could only respond, "Ah... makes sense."

With the meeting now over, Harry said he was going out to the lake. Ron asked if he wanted company but Harry said not right now. Hermione also mumbled something about needing to find some books in the library right now.

Younger-Ron decided he wanted to go back to the dorms, so they switched and left. While on their way out of the library, Ron thought, _Well, that wasn't as bad as I thought it would be... oh SHIT, I'm going to have to tell Malfoy!_

 _Ugh, do we have to tell him?_ Younger-Ron whined. Great, he'd forgot to think privately. And younger-Ron had also stopped walking.

 _Uh, we literally just told your Harry and Hermione about me being here and from the future, so yeah, that definitely counts as a change! I guess writing a letter would be easier than waiting until the next meeting..._

 _We have to tell Malfoy, AND more writing? Oh Merlin I fucking hate my life..._

 _I hate my life too, now let's go. I'll write the letter, don't worry._

Younger-Ron made sure to send out feelings of irritation, but started walking again.

Once in the dorm, Ron found writing the letter took much longer than he'd like, but - well - several minutes later, he was done. For a moment he briefly debated whether to send the letter then or later, then thought privately, _Oh, who are we kidding, I'll never get it done if I put it off for later._ Internally cursing himself the whole way, he forced himself over to the Owlery, and used a school owl.

 _There, now I sent... Stubby Boardman's letter. Hopefully "_ _Penumbra Eadmund_ _" gets it soon and responds._

 _What's with those barmy names anyway? Where'd you come up with them?_

For a moment Ron hesitated. Should he really give out such future knowledge? Then he privately thought, _Eh, fuck it. Minor celebrity gossip at worst._

So he sent out, _Well, Stubby Boardman was the lead singer of a retired band called The Hobgoblins. Really I just picked it because The Quibbler claimed he was Sirius Black's secret identity or something - or will claim, I guess. And... I have no idea for_ _Penumbra Eadmund_ _, you'd have to ask Malfoy about that._

 _Yeah, that's not happening,_ was sent, along with some skeptical feelings.

 _Fair enough, I don't really care enough to ask either._

* * *

...Unsurprisingly, Malfoy was not happy.

"This is so - this is going to make everything so much more complicated!" Malfoy paced intensely while fiddling with some glass container, looking furious. "Now we have to deal with two more people, knowing about the situation... and I have no idea what will happen now that, of all people, you told _14-year-old Harry Potter and 15-year-old Hermione Granger!_ Especially with the position they're in, they could jeopardize everything! Just off the top of my head - who's to say they don't try to tell Dumbledore everything?! Did you even think of that before you went and told them everything?"

Ron was now feeling a little embarrassed, but he didn't want to give Malfoy the satisfaction of knowing that. So he just said, "I did, actually. I specifically told them not to tell Dumbledore about this, and they weren't happy about it, but they did agree to it."

Malfoy sneered. "Right, and we all know how teenagers - especially these teenagers - always do as they're told."

Somehow it was so much more infuriating when he actually had a point. Trying to ignore that feeling, Ron continued, "Anyways, they still don't know the whole situation. I didn't tell them much about what I'm trying to change - made sure not to tell them much about the future at all, for obvious reasons - and they only know about me. I didn't tell them about you."

"Honestly, just... do it, you might as well." Malfoy ran his hand through his hair irritatedly. "In fact, why don't you just tell your entire house as well? No, wait, tell the whole school. Why not go out and send a letter to The Daily Prophet while you're at it?"

"Can you stop? Just once?"

"No, I cannot, and will not. Ever. You really should know that by now. Honestly though, just tell them. You already decided to tell them everything else, so just go ahead and do it. If they already know the rest, they'll figure this out eventually, too. So... just get it over with."

Ron, against his better judgment, said, "Really? You're fine with me telling them?"

"Oh, I'm still furious. But honestly I should have expected this. You three were always so attached at the hip, I should have known it was only a matter of time before you just couldn't help yourself, and just _had_ to tell your precious baby friends the truth. So, yes, go ahead and tell them about the _other_ time-displaced person. I'm sure they'll be _thrilled_ to hear it all."

Ron rolled his eyes, but then said, "So... maybe we'll have two more people in the Room of Hidden Things, next time."

"Sure, if they can even handle it," Malfoy scoffed. "Now, are we going to work on the next steps the investigator outlined for us to do in their latest letters or not?"

Ron sighed and prepared for the next hour or more to be full of tiring manual labour. _And I also have to prepare to figure out to tell kid Harry and Hermione about how I'm not the only one here... and how the other person is Malfoy... that's going to be a pain... How, how do I end up with problems like these?_

 _Beats me,_ younger-Ron sent, for once speaking up during the Room of Requirement meetings. _I thought my biggest problem this year was going to be getting nagged about the O.W.L.s for next year or something, not a kind of time travel I've never seen before. Oh, well, giving this explanation is definitely your problem, not mine!_ And he slipped out.

* * *

"Wait, WHAT?! MALFOY?!" Oh, Harry was definitely reacting as expected... unfortunately.

Hermione wasn't looking much better. "Of all people-"

"Listen, it's not like I chose it to be-"

"But OF ALL PEOPLE-"

 _I was right, this is definitely going to be a pain. Fuck my life_.

* * *

 **Wow, Chapter 10 is FINALLY done... and it took _forever!_**

 **Not gonna lie, readers, this was a very challenging chapter to write, I got stuck on multiple parts, and of course I got busy with school, too. But, finally, it's out. Hope you find it interesting.**

 **The thing about Hermione's middle name, is inspired by Rowling saying she was originally thought Hermione's middle name should be Jane, then changed it to Jean. To be clear, the only thing I take as canon is the seven books, but sometimes I may be inspired by what Rowling may say in an interview.**

 **Ron saying not to permanently disfigure someone's face even if they did do somethung wrong, is a reference to how in Book 5, Marietta Edgecombe ends up with large facial scaring due to Hermione's spell.**

 **If anyone noticed: I changed "Champagne Papi" to "Penumbra Eadmund" for... personal reasons.**

 **As always: I may not update regularly - as you can CLEARLY see with how long it took to write and publish this Chapter 10! Please review if you can, and let me know what you think. If you have any questions, feel free to ask.**


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